


As if it's Our Last

by hokshi



Category: MKIT RAIN, korean hip hop
Genre: F/M, Friends With Benefits, Implied Sexual Content, Romantic Fluff, anyone else out here and desperately in love with nafla?, but like hello?, hmu up, situationship - Freeform, slight angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-14
Updated: 2019-07-18
Packaged: 2020-06-28 05:38:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 23,739
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19805848
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hokshi/pseuds/hokshi
Summary: Lifetime opportunities only come once, don't they?





	1. Part 1

**Author's Note:**

> hi, i might be overdoing it with this meeting-at-the-club premise, but i like this one. let's catch feels
> 
> Situationship (as defined by our good friend, urban dictionary): a relationship that has no label on it, like a friendship but more than a friendship but not quite a relationship

You can’t believe your ass. If God himself came to you in a vision and told you that your dream man of all your hip hop fantasies would find you and ask you to dance, you’d have laughed and said, “Thank you, I gotta write this down when I wake up.” 

So when the man himself — the man whose voice is always echoing through your earphones, whose face is taped to your bedroom wall, whose albums have their own special decorated shelf — appears behind you in the darkness of the night club sending appreciative smiles at the way your body moves, you do a double take. A triple, even. 

The first time because you wanted to make sure you weren’t so drunk that you started to hallucinate your favorite rapper’s face amidst the warm bodies up in the club, the second to check to see if he was sending the smile to anyone else. And when you blink back the surprise, you chance a smile back. You really don’t know what to expect at this point, or what to even think, but you’re floored by the steps he takes to dance closer to you. 

With the way that he’s dancing, there’s no mistaking the flirtiness in his movements. You would read it as so if any other guy at the club tonight approached you in the same way. And as much as you want to relish the fact that the man beyond your dreams is actually hitting on you right now, you can’t hold back the excitement. 

So without anymore restraint, you lean in to shout, “Wow, are you really Nafla?!” 

You can just barely hear his soft laugh at your question before he smiles and nods, which is admittedly easier than shouting back his answer. You dramatize your responding “oh my god, I love you” as you continue to dance beside him. 

He smiles back like he knows, and you can see his lips move around the words ‘thank you.’ You really need a good ten minutes to just take all of him in; his face, his aura, his clothes, his height, his skin, his body, how comfortable he is just dancing in this surprisingly respectful crowd. You suppose it makes sense since this is one of the more high-end clubs in the city, so the clientele is a little more mature than all the ones frequented by the college and fresh graduate crowd. 

You need those minutes, but one of your favorite songs comes on and it is physically impossible for you not to enjoy it and pull out all your best dance moves. So you cry happily at the song transition and let your body roll and pop and bounce to every bass boost, hand clap, and drum that bumps the room with energy. As you dance, you steal glances back at Nafla every so often to see if his attention is still on you, and to your delight, he seems like he hasn’t looked away. 

God, are you really not dreaming right now? Are you really dancing with Nafla from MKIT RAIN after he just showed up beside you like any other regular dude trying to pick up a girl at the club? Is he really just trying to pick you up right now? Here of all places? Out of all these people? Really, truly, what are the odds? 

You dance together for a couple more songs and just enjoy the vibe together because this DJ’s set just keeps getting better and better. It’s like he based the entire thing off of playlist in your own music library — which is something you were hoping for when you came in tonight, since you researched him online before coming to this club in hopes that he’d play something similar. But it all feels too good to be true; you’re dancing with your favorite K-hiphop rapper to some of the best music in this amazing club, and no one is bothering you two. It’s as if no one recognizes him or just doesn’t care that Nafla is here, dancing like a regular attendee. 

So to roll with the motions of dancing with a guy who’s interested in you, you let him dance closer and closer to you until he’s got his hands on you. And wow, he’s not the biggest guy, but he’s got some of the firmest hands you’ve ever felt on your hips right now. He’s keeping a respectful couple of inches between you, so you bring your arms to wrap around his neck to show him you’re fine with closing the distance. 

He’s kind of a tease, because even when you try to inch closer, rub your hips towards him, dancing a little more sensually to the music playing, he kind of just lets you. And when he doesn’t make a move to touch you further, you start to lose your courage. Maybe he isn’t trying to pick you up after all? 

However, in a last ditch effort, your courage spikes again with the start of another one of your favorite jams and you move your hands down his shoulders and arms and twirl sensually in his grip until your back is to his chest. When the chorus peaks, you arch your back and move your ass across his hips like you’re trying to smear him in your pheromones. 

To your delight — and relief — he grinds back, and it’s like a switch has been flipped in him. While he had cautious hands before, now they’re rolling all over the length of your body. He’s touching at your sides, your thighs, your stomach, your arms, and you feel your skin tingling with excitement as he gets closer to your crotch. “I like watching you dance.” He surprises you with the surprise murmur by your ear. 

“I like you dancing on me.” You say back, hoping he heard you through the music. You’re inclined to believe that he did, with the way that he responds by pushing your thighs back to bring your ass harder against his hips. 

And suddenly, your brain sounds louder than the entire club, because you’re internally screaming to yourself that you have Nafla’s bulge pressed into your behind.  _ Nafla  _ is grinding against you like he’s trying to take it further. Oh god, what are you to do? Will your dreams of becoming one of Nafla’s bedroom groupies come true?? 

It’s not long before he turns you back around in his arms to hug you closer, ask you for your name, exchange a few more flirty words lip-to-ear, and then exchange spit lip-to-lip. He tastes amazing. The different mixed alcohols and sodas mask it, but he’s got a manly and robust taste about him. You can’t even begin to describe it, so you just taste. You move your lips in tandem with his and let his tongue peek into your mouth every so often. 

He’s a better kisser than the average guy at the club, which gives you reason to believe that he’ll be even more talented in other ways. The way he holds you makes you feel enveloped in him, like his arms and scent and presence just pull you in to completely surround you. Your own hands trail up his back and hold onto his shoulders as he kisses you further, making you dizzy in a way that the alcohol never could.

Your heart is jumping in your chest not only because freaking Nafla is kissing you, but also because he’s kissing you so good. Is this what it feels like to make out with someone you’ve only been able to fantasize about? Is it truly possible for dream men to fall right into your lap and give themselves to you? God, no one will believe you if you retell this to someone. You’re still not 100% sure that this is really Nafla and that this is really happening to you right now. 

But when he pulls away with the most satisfying smacking sound, you blink at that unmistakable face and listen to that irreplicable voice when he leans back in to say, “You taste so good.” 

If he wasn’t practically holding you up as he pulled you in to kiss you again, you might’ve actually fainted on him. Fuck, how can he say that to you?? This feels so, so dangerous and comparable to a high that can only be achieved by drug intake. Because you’re absolutely hooked onto him right now. 

You kiss for who knows how long, and you don’t even know if the music is good anymore. Nafla eventually pulls away though, only to lean in to ask, “Wanna get outta here with me?” 

Yes!!!!! 

Absolutely yes!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! God, a fucking million times yes. This is the opportunity of a lifetime, when are you ever going to get a chance like this again?? Fuck!!! 

But— “I can’t.” You squeeze your eyes together like you’re in pain, “I can’t leave my friend tonight. I promised.” 

“Ah.” Nafla sounds and looks disappointed, though maybe not as much as you are. 

Before you can stop yourself, you lean in to say, “But if you wanna come back tomorrow night… I can meet you here.” You hope to God that that didn’t sound desperate. 

He smiles at you like an adult does at a kid when they propose something silly, but leans in anyway, “I can’t make it.” 

You dramatically tilt your head to the side with a pout before leaning in again, “That’s a shame.” Then a quick glance over to the door between the table area and the bathrooms has your mouth running again before you can think, “How about a quick trip to the back then?” 

You tilt your head again in a way that you hope looks cute and alluring, and Nafla stares at you for a moment before breaking into a small chuckle again and nodding, “Sure.” 

When you pull his hand across the back of your waist into your hand, you swear you feel sparks. Enough to make the fire in your core light up. You giggle and turn around towards the door you spotted earlier. On the way, you spot your friend at the bar talking to someone, so you quickly talk in her ear, “I’ll be right back” and send her wink before leading Nafla to the back. 

Now, you’ve never actually been behind this door, so you don’t know what to expect. But you are somewhat relieved when you open it to find a small, dim hallway rather than a dusty, tight supply closet. The door on the other side probably leads to the parking lot out back or possibly more storage. 

But you figure this is private enough, so you put rest your back against the wall and Nafla follows to close the door and press his chest into yours. “You’re a wild one, huh?” 

“You followed me here, didn’t you?” You shrug, putting your arms around his neck again, waiting for him to come in for another kiss. 

“True,” he agrees, coming in to gently caress your nose with his, “I’m curious.” And he’s kissing you again, in that absolutely perfect way that he does. You already knew that the guy has some talented lips, what with the music he puts out, but this is a whole ‘nother art form. He kisses you like he’s known you for ages, like he loves you or something, and you are so far gone into him that you can’t do anything else but fall. 

Can all of your hopes and dreams really come true like this? Nafla is already here and interested in you and he’s good at this?? You want so badly to find out more, more about him and how amazing he is in all kinds of ways. This unbelievable proximity just drives your insatiable hunger to learn more about him in ways that you won’t be able to find online. You’re so excited that you can feel your knees buckling beneath you. 

And when he puts his hands on you,  _ fuck _ , he’s as good with those as he is with his mouth. He puts the perfect amount of pressure on your breasts as he rolls them in his fingers and palms. When he starts moving down to kiss at your neck, you wonder if it’s becoming too much. This is all becoming too unreal. Like—  _ Nafla’s hand _ is trailing up your dress. 

He teases you for a good couple of minutes until you start to beg him, which he seems to find amusing. When you’re both finally worked up enough on each other’s touches and heavy breaths, Nafla pulls his pants down and approaches you until—

“Wait.” You stop him by the shoulder, “Don’t you have a condom?” 

“No, I don’t.” He says, “I wasn’t planning on doing anything here, but I… had a change of heart.” He locks you in with his bedroom eyes. Fuck. “But I’ll be careful.” He starts to lean back in. 

“Stop… Stop.” You have to say it twice because your voice barely came out the first time. You’ve lost a lot of strength just being with him for a few minutes like this. But you have to make yourself clear, so you clear out your throat before continuing, “Look, I think you’re so cool and so fine, and I can’t even believe I’m here with you right now. But I don’t care who you are, I’m not letting you in here unless you have one on.” 

You’re breaking your own heart by saying this, but no matter whose dick it is, you still have to take care of yourself. You’ve followed this man for years, but you still don’t really know much about him. Who knows how many people he’s slept with? Or if he’s clean? Or if he’ll be there for you should something happen? You love him, but… you still have to be careful. 

Nafla takes a moment but backs away with a sigh, “I get that.” 

But before he can zip up his pants again, you say, “I can give you a little suck though.” And to prove it, you drop to your knees on this somewhat gross floor and look up at him with the soft, fluttery eyes that you’ve practiced over the years to put men under your control. 

Much to your satisfaction, Nafla is no different to the effect, and he lets out a shaky breath before combing his fingers through your hair. “Fine,” he says. 

So you flash him the most sultry smile in your artillery — also one you’ve been honing for a good amount of time — and by the time he’s in your mouth, he might as well have been pleading with the desperation you see in his eyes. Needless to say, you give him the time of his life, and you know that you’re going to be replaying these noises he makes in your head for weeks to come.  _ You’re  _ making Nafla feel good and he’s totally about to come apart in your hands. 

When he finishes and you come back up with the most cheeky smile on your lips, Nafla groans as he pulls you in for another kiss, “God, I wanna fuck you so bad right now.” 

Fuck, so do you. So bad. Hearing him say that right to your face, you really wish you had prepared a few condoms of your own. But this dress doesn’t have the storage capacity for that and it’s not like you were planning to get freaky tonight anyway. How the fuck were you supposed to know Nafla was going to come right up to you and practically beg to get in your pants tonight?? Of all nights.

“Mm, I know the feeling.” You manage to say between more kisses. 

“You’re so good with your mouth.” He grunts, “I bet you sound real cute when you scream too.” 

A shudder rolls down your back, and you have to catch your breath in a few dizzy chuckles, “Yeah, if you can make me.” 

“Oh, believe me, I want to.” His voice is gravelly as he traces his lips up your neck back to your ear, “You sure you don’t wanna come back with me tonight?” 

You whine, letting your head fall back against the wall, “I do. So bad. But I can’t leave my friend on her own. Not tonight.” You regrettably shake your head, then comb your fingertips through his hair that’s faded with color. “Too bad, I could’ve been the best lay of your life.” 

Nafla breaks out in laughter at your nonchalant confidence and comes in to kiss you again. This time, you can feel a shift in his mood, like his kiss is full of newfound conviction, “Fuck it,” he breathes, taking out his phone from his pocket, “Come meet me tomorrow night.” 

“What?” You’re confused and dumbfounded, because it sounds like your dreams may still come true. 

“You better prove to me that you deserve that title,” he leans in to press his forehead to yours, and you both laugh. 

You feel like you should expect to wake up from your dream soon, since the best part is clearly coming up — that’s when you’re usually rudely awakened during a fantastic dream. But Nafla’s touch just feels too real, too sweet, too feasible to be imagined. You’ve never felt like this when touched by someone before. 

And when he lets you go for the night to return to your friend, you still can’t believe what just happened to you. You dance with her for the rest of the night like nothing out of the ordinary happened to you and when you go home, you check your phone again to confirm it. Yes, Nafla’s contact info is actually there, and the MKIT RAIN rapper actually did send you a private message and a location on where to meet him tomorrow night. 

It’s unreal. Completely unbelievable. 

  
  


*

  
  


He sent a follow up text earlier in the day to bring a swimsuit (with a winky face) so obviously you spent the entire day swimsuit shopping after you woke up from your night out. There’s technically nothing wrong with your plain two-piece — it looks rather good on you — but if Nafla was going to see you in it, you’d like to know if there are better options for you. 

After several hours going all over the city in search of something impressive, yet still you, you found a simple, but stylish bikini set. The design made it a little provocative, but it otherwise covered everything it needed to cover, and stably at that. You were quite happy with your choice and you honestly couldn’t stop staring at yourself in the mirror for a good half hour before you finally started getting ready to leave. 

And now you’ve shown up to the address in a little black dress since you realized you knew nothing else about what to expect and you can’t go wrong with a universal look. Though now that you’ve shown up to this grand hotel building, you’re starting to get nervous. When you reach the 35th floor like Nafla said in his text, you follow the signs that point to the rooftop bar and pool lounge. And you’re stopped by an usher. 

Or receptionist? Or guard?? He didn’t tell you this was an invitation exclusive event!! You are clearly not part of any important lists!!! 

When the usher asks for your name, you nervously tell them you were invited by Nafla and show them the text messages he sent you as reference or evidence. Whichever works. “Okay, I’ll just write you down as part of MKIT RAIN’s party then. They’re not here yet, but you can come in first.” 

“Thanks…” you say as you slowly trudge into the enormous rooftop space. 

The place is  _ bumping _ . There’s a DJ, drinks and food platters everywhere, people dressed in party casual or provocative swimwear, and what’s tripping you up the most is that… there are famous people  _ everywhere _ . You know almost all of these guests!! Not personally, but through your computer screen, your music library, your social media, everything that connects you to your favorite artists in Korea… and for some reason, they’ve all congregated here tonight… in one place… 

And you were invited… 

So when that receptionist said she’d add you under MKIT RAIN’s party, that must’ve meant everyone from all the other labels are here too?? Fucking unbelievable. Suran and Hoody are talking over drinks by the pool, at least three of the MBA guys are crowding the bar, DJ Pumkin is joining the current DJ in prep to transition to his set — and you now realize that the current DJ was actually Primary. All of these amazing people are here, and there’s a number of other individuals you don’t recognize or know but are all intimidatingly attractive, and you’re beginning to feel less and less like you’re supposed to be here. 

So obviously the first thing you do is make straight for the bar and order a double shot of vodka and orange. You offer up your card but the bartender says all the drinks are paid for tonight. “Oh. Thank you.” 

“The bar’s always free during an event like this. You new or something?” A voice chuckles beside you, and you almost spit out your vodka when you turn to see  _ Jay Park _ speaking to you. 

“Holy fucking shit.” You curse, wiping at the droplet that escaped the corner of your mouth. “Jay Park?” 

“Yeah.” He gives you a weird smile, like it’s obvious, “So you are new?” 

“Clearly.” You take another gulp of your drink, “I was uh… invited by someone. But I didn’t realize it was gonna be such a big event. I’m starting to wonder if I’m actually allowed to be here.” 

“Oh, well if you’re here with a friend, then you’re clearly welcome. Who you here with?” Jay Park is asking you questions and trying to make you feel welcome. Are the gods giving you a little too much right now? Is there a catch? 

“N-Nafla…” you don’t know if you should be name-dropping like that, but what else are you supposed to do? You’re not affiliated with anyone else — that is, if you can even consider what you assumed was a booty call an affiliation with the guy. 

“Nice! I don’t think those guys are here yet, but feel free to hang around and mingle. You don’t gotta be too nervous.” Jay reassures you and raises his glass for you to clink with him. 

You smile appreciatively and tap your drink against his before taking another swig. In a normal situation, if  _ the  _ Jay Park appeared before you, you would attack him with a slew of questions and professions of love as a fan, but you can’t really do that here on a rooftop full of celebrities and their friends. It would take the whole night and you’d look idiotic, maybe to the point of getting kicked out. 

That is the last thing you want, especially when you haven’t even seen Nafla yet tonight. This has really turned into a lot more than a lucky lay with your favorite rapper. Jay’s chatter with his other friends fades into background noise as you continue to scope the area for a head of a faded red hair, and simultaneously wonder how you’re supposed to approach anyone here when you don’t know a single soul personally. 

However, the answer comes to you suddenly when one of your favorite mainstream hip hop songs starts playing — you’ll just do it like you do at the club, by dancing. “I like this song.” You announce to no one in particular. Quickly, you finish your drink and set it back on the counter before swinging around in your chair to approach the small dance floor area surrounding the DJ booth with a beat to your step. 

The crowd is rather small compared to the club even on a slow night, but it’s enough to let you blend in as you start moving your hips and limbs in casual tandem with the song Primary is playing. You don’t know a lot of the faces in this crowd, so you’re guessing a lot of the girls here may be dates or close friends or staff also invited to join the party. They all seem perfectly capable of having a good time, at least.

Pretty soon, you’re starting to feel the groove mix in with the starting waves of the vodka, and you dance with slightly less inhibitions than you started with. Some of the other dancers are even encouraging you and letting you join in. They even start a little dance circle in the middle of the floor to let everyone show off a bit, and obviously you can’t disappoint, so you throw out a few of your better moves to get some loud encouragement. It works, and you’re dancing along like it’s just another night out — only with a super higher end crowd. 

As it turns out, it’s as easy to attract famous guys as it is to attract regular guys at the club when you know how to dance a little and dress up nicely. They just come to you, trying to dance with you, offering you drinks, asking your name, the works. You’re friendly to them all — and the girls too — though you do your best to keep to yourself when guys look like they’re seriously trying to approach you. 

Which is fucking hard, because hello?? Some of these guys you actually listen to on the daily on your commutes to work and for your workout playlists!!! Temptation is everywhere tonight, especially when it’s just coming right up to you, but you’re here for one man and one man only. No amount of liquor is going to make you forget that tonight. 

Though you are caught by surprise when someone’s drink ends up splashing across the entire front of your dress. There was some sort of accident that sent the drink owner tumbling back and spilling his sangria all over you. Now there’s a commotion over you and the guy who spilled the drink on you is apologizing profusely. However, you’re far gone enough to reply with a calm laugh, which seems to surprise the people around you a bit. “It’s cool, I’m fine. But uh…” You look around, wondering what the hell you’re gonna do now in a wet dress. 

Until your eyes land on the pool. “I’m just gonna…” You point your thumb over to the pool that overlooks the edge of the hotel roof, “wash it off, I guess.” 

“Uh, yeah. For sure…” The guy replies. He’s in the middle of offering to have your dress replaced but stops mid-sentence when you start unzipping the garment by a lounge chair. 

When you pull the whole thing off of your shoulders and drag it down to step out of it to lay on the back of the lounge chair, you hear a few cheers and whistles. “Guess you were prepared, at least.” Someone comments. Was that a fucking producer whose beats you hear on the regular?? 

You just laugh with a shrug before stepping towards the pool. Looking down at your now bikini-clad body, you see some of the red wine still trailing down your skin as you take the few steps up to get into the long, somewhat narrow pool. Some of it ended up in your hair too, it seems. 

There is a small number of people in the pool too, but it looks like they’re all chatting with each other in their groups of friends, so you kind of just wade around and let the pool water wash away the remnants of the sangria from your skin. You also take a few moments to relish in the absolutely gorgeous view of the city from here. The question keeps coming back to attack you: are you really here right now? 

Is any of this real? How did you end up in a place where all these incredible artists are just here to chill with their own friends? Was Nafla right in his head last night when he invited you to come here? Gosh, you can’t even begin to wonder how you’ll get through the rest of this night. 

While you’re sinking into your thoughts, you kind of just let your head submerge under the water too. Might as well get the wine out of your hair as well, and your makeup is waterproofed enough to withstand a short submersion. Right when you come up for air though, you hear a voice nearby that you’ve been listening for all night. 

Turning around, you spot him, right by the other lounge chairs near the dance floor, “Nafla!” The brightest, dopiest smile stretches across your face. You must look way too eager. And that’s when you remember you must also look like a wet seal or something right now since you just popped out of the pool. 

He calls your name back in response, obviously surprised to see where you came from. “Hey,” you try to dial down the smile a few watts as you approach the edge of the pool. There’s a marble step used as a seat in the way though, so you just stand on it with your knees and let your upper torso emerge from the pool as well as you lean your hands and forearms on the edge. Arching forward as if it’ll get you closer to hear him when it’s really just your own eagerness jumping out, you take a breath to calm yourself, “I uh… I’ve been looking for you.” 

“Oh, this is the guy you’ve been waiting for all night?” One of the guys who was on the dance floor with you earlier and was probably having a conversation with Nafla and his friends at first (you try to ignore the fact that several of the MKIT RAIN members are standing right here in front of you too, on top of all the other excitement), pats him on the back. “Lucky you, dude. She really knows how to dance.” He praises. 

“Ah…” You shyly chuckle back, running a hand down your wet hair. 

“Yeah, I know.” Nafla agrees with a playful, yet somewhat secretive smile. “But you decided to take a dip instead of kicking it on the dance floor?” 

“Oh, uh, my dress… it got wet. So I just came in to clean the wine off.” 

“Oh my god, yeah dude. You should’ve seen it! Junho was trying to pull that move, you know that one? And then—“ The guy from the dance floor explains the encounter for you, so at least you have a witness instead of sounding stupid that you now no longer have clean clothes for the evening. 

“Ah, that sucks. Well, you can use one of the hotel robes or something later, it’s probably not a big deal.” Nafla suggests, “Unless you wanted to keep swimming?” 

“No, no. It’s cool. I— I want to join you.” You wonder if it’s too bold of a statement to make, but what else can you say when you mainly came here on the pretense of fucking him tonight? 

He doesn’t seem to take any offense to it though as you step out of the pool. You try to wring out as much water as you can from your hair and skin before dance floor guy comes up and offers you a towel. “Thank you.” You smile gratefully at him as you carefully dab at your face as not to smear the makeup. 

“No problem.” He smiles back. 

“Hey, so you wanna go grab another drink first?” Nafla pipes up and takes back your attention. 

“Yeah, definitely.” You nod, wrapping the towel around yourself before following Nafla back to the bar. You let him order something for you, and he grabs both drinks before leading you to the cushioned lounge chair area again. You both sit on the same side of the same chair in view of the dance floor and the pool and a lot of the rest of the party, but it’s not too loud here so you can talk without problems. 

“Looks like you’re popular wherever you go.” He comments jokingly as he hands you your drink. 

“You think so?” You smile behind your cup as you take a sip. It’s sweet, but strong. A nice choice. 

“Yeah, maybe I should've gotten here earlier.” He leans back on his hands but keeps his eyes on you, “Then I could’ve kept you to myself. Now everyone’s interested in you.” 

“As if, I’ve been here for like, half an hour.” You roll your eyes and set down your drink between you two on the chair. 

“Half an hour? On the dance floor?” Nafla says with an incredulous smile, “It’s a wonder you haven’t already run off with some other dude.” 

“You know what, that wouldn’t even be a problem if you didn’t just throw me to the wolves like this.” You joke, “What did you expect me to do at this huge ass party full of chart toppers and girls who look like they belong in hip hop music videos? I’m so out of place!” 

“Yeah right, you could be in any music video and outshine anyone there.” Nafla’s flirty tone is back, which you kind of love but still can’t believe. “You were doing just fine before I got here.”

“Shut up.” You hide behind another sip of your drink, “And it’s about time you came. I didn’t come here for just anybody.” 

“Oh yeah?” He cocks his eyebrows at you with a smirk, “Who is it that you came for?” 

You almost roll your eyes again at that one, but before you can come up with a witty answer, you’re joined by a few guests. All of whom happen to be amazingly talented and have you frozen in your seat from being star struck. 

“What’s up, Fla~”

“Yooo.” 

“Wassuuupp y’all.” 

Nafla groans beside you, but he welcomes his friends to the lounge chairs beside you guys anyway. You’re trying to keep your breathing under control and your giant smile bitten down in your jaw. That is fucking  _ Loopy, Kid Milli, and Young West _ sitting across from you. And mother fucking  _ Bloo _ took up the last bit of space on your lounge chair beside Nafla. 

For a minute or so, the boys all talk amongst each other as if you’re not there, and you don’t even realize it because you’re staring at them in awe, just listening to all these famous artists having a regular conversation like some sort of miracle unfolding before you. Until someone brings you up, that is. So Nafla introduces you by name, “We just met yesterday.” 

“Hi.” You wave awkwardly. 

Some of them say hi back, but they don’t really pry into the specifics of why Nafla invited you here despite only having met you yesterday. They instead decide to ask you questions about yourself, which is relatively painless. “Do you go to school or work in Seoul or something?” 

“No, actually I’m just here on vacation.” You go on to explain that you have a full time job in your home country, and that you’re leaving in a couple of days. “But I have a few friends who live here, so I’m visiting them and going out and having fun with them. Never would I have imagined I’d get to meet freaking Nafla and everyone else here.” 

A few laughs and other topics go by and then Bloo asks, “So is dancing part of your job too? Because I saw you at first and you really know how to move.” 

“Actually,” you laugh, “I do have a part time job as a dance instructor at the gym. I used to dance a bit in college so the gym’s a good way to help me keep up with it. Though the club helps too.”

“Wow, it’s no wonder you’re so good.” A few boys coo in awe of you, though it honestly sounds a lot cooler than it actually is to live your day-to-day life. 

As the conversation goes on, the strong need to blurt out your love as a fan to each and every one of them dies down with how naturally the talking and laughing flows. But you kind of break the nice pace for yourself when you let out a sharp gasp at the sight of someone. 

“What is it?” Nafla asks, and in your rush of excitement, you end up slapping your hand on his thigh in order to get a hold of his hand. 

“Is that freaking  _ Beenzino  _ over there??” 

“Oh, yeah, it is. Fresh out of the army.” Loopy turns around to confirm that it is indeed the man who took over your mind during your college years. 

“Okay, I think I might actually die in a minute.” You stare Nafla in the eye with a serious expression, “I’m sorry, I’ve been trying really hard to keep cool while I’m around you guys and not creep you out, but my facade is crumbling now because I have liked that guy since I was in high school.” 

You turn away from them to take a deep gulp of your drink and attempt to suppress your excitement further, but it’s getting real hard now. Beenzino is here, and he’s fucking tall. And more handsome than pictures can even try to portray. 

“Wow, looks like Fla’s got some competition now.” Loopy chuckles before he takes a sip of his own drink. 

“Oh my god, no. I love him and Stephanie together. They’re the cutest.” You wave off that comment, “But still, I’ve only ever seen him in concert. This is fucking unreal. This whole thing is unreal. The fact that I’m talking to you guys right now is unreal. I’m surprised I haven’t puked.” 

You’re babbling. All of the nerves and excitement are slowly starting to trickle out and you need to find a way to cap it before Nafla and the others get too put off. “Do you wanna talk to him?” Nafla offers.

“No.” You scoff as if it’s obvious, “Do you think I’m capable of talking without freaking out right now?” 

“Hey, hyung! Beenzino-hyung!” Bloo calls out and waves his hand to get the rapper’s attention. 

“Oh my god.” You breathe.

“Hyung, come here for a minute.” Bloo waves him over, and dear lord, he’s actually approaching. Fuck.

“Bloo, you turd ball!” You don’t know why you said that, but anything else would’ve been too serious. “I’m not ready for this.” 

“It’s cool,” Nafla laughs, “Just say hi and that you’re a fan. Like whatever you’d say if you met him on the street.” He shrugs.

“Hey, guys.” Beenzino comes over and greets everyone with a catch of the hand and chest bump in the way he does. “What’s up?” 

“So, our friend here,” Bloo introduces you, “really likes you, and she really wanted us to ask you to come here so she could talk to you.”

Oh. My. God. 

That is mortifying. You give Bloo an incredulous and offended look, but he just smiles and waves at you to greet your idol of young adulthood. You look to Nafla for a last desperate call for help, but he just smiles at you. Guess you have no choice. 

Taking a deep breath, you turn and stand to greet the Beenzino himself, “Hi, I’m such a big fan.” You give him your name, your hometown and country, and tell him how long you’ve been following him for. 

“Wow, thanks for all the love. I’ve actually been to your country before, it’s a really beautiful place.” He says. 

“Oh, thank you.” You laugh nervously, “Well, we’re always excited to see you perform, so… Yeah, I can’t wait to go to another concert of yours. They’re always so fun.” 

He asks you to elaborate and you go on to mention the concerts and festivals you’ve been to see him in the past several years, and he’s thoroughly impressed and/or creeped out. You can’t tell because you’re worrying about talking too much or quickly now. When he thanks you again, you decide to go out on a limb and ask, “Can I… Can I have a hug?” 

“Yeah, sure, of course.” He holds his arms out for you and you accidentally let out a small squeal before falling into his strong embrace. Wow, you are really hugging the man of all your college dreams right now. While on a night call with the man of you current dreams. Funny how life works out. 

“Thank you,” you say breathlessly as you pull away. 

“No problem, always grateful for the love and support. Here, why don’t we take a picture together?” 

“Really??” Your eyes must be sparkling right now, and you snap your head back to look at the other guys who have just been watching your little exchange if they weren’t preoccupied with their phones or something. 

“Here, I’ll take it.” Bloo offers, standing up and holding his phone up to snap the picture. 

“Oh, okay. Thank you.” You move in to get closer to Beenzino to take the photo, before realizing you’re still wearing a towel around your body. “Wait, hold on.” You pull the towel off and throw it onto the back of the lounge chair before scooting in to wrap your arm around the rapper’s waist while he puts his arm around your shoulders. 

“One, two, three.” Bloo counts. My god, your smile might take over your whole face in this photo. You want to curse and thank him for calling him over for you. 

When the picture is taken and Beenzino takes his leave, you take your seat again next to Nafla and without thinking, bury your face into his neck as you take a calming breath. “Oh my god, I can’t even breathe…” 

“Wow, your face is really warm.” Nafla mentions, bringing a hand up to stroke at your cheek. 

“Hey, congrats though!” Bloo announces, “You got a pic with Beenzino-hyung. I’ll send this to Fla to send to you later.” 

“I can’t believe you just did that to me.” You raise your head to strike Bloo with an accusing glare, “But thank you.” You relent with a sigh and take another gulp of your drink. 

“You’re welcome.” He says proudly.

“Oh my god,” you close your eyes briefly before turning to Nafla again, “There’s too many amazing people here, I’m not cut out for this. I’m gonna start screaming any minute now.” 

“Save it, I’ll take care of that later.” Nafla says with a hand on your thigh, which is suddenly a lot warmer on your skin now that the towel is off. It slips out of his mouth so casually that you can’t do anything but stare at him, in complete awe. And something else. Something else that stirs in your body and between your legs. How did that smooth and curt comment suddenly flip a switch in you?

The other guys seem as dumbstruck as you are, but it only takes them a second to bounce back and start shouting at Nafla about being a dog or being vulgar or whatever. You, however, are still staring until his playful little chuckle breaks you, and you burst into giggles in his neck. 

After a few chuckles, you lean up to whisper into his ear, “Can I kiss you right now?” 

You don’t expect to feel so relieved when he replies with a casual but throaty, “Yeah,” before leaning in kiss you first. It’s a long one, tangled with teasing nips and pressure play, and you didn’t realize how much you needed this. Amidst all this excitement, and worrying about keeping your cool, trying to keep a conversation going with all these celebrities you admire but don’t actually know, you had almost forgotten why you were really here. 

“Okay, guess that’s our cue.” 

“Yeah. Later, guys.” 

“You have fun now, kids.” 

You pull away from Nafla when you hear the guys leaving, but you don’t come apart without a puckered smacking sound. It’s embarrassing, but you do feel obligated to at least say goodbye to his friends who were nice enough to talk to you. “Oh, okay. Bye! It was nice meeting you.” 

Nafla exchanges a few other words with the guys about who knows what, but when they step away his attention right back on you. He watches you stare at him, letting your eyes roam all over his face with a curious pucker in your lips. But eventually he breaks into a gentle laugh again, calling you cute before leaning in to kiss you once more. 

This time, the kiss lasts for quite a while. You have no idea how much time passes, but you know it’s been awhile because when you finally pull away and open your eyes again, they’re a bit sensitive to the lights outside. Or maybe it was just Nafla making you dizzy with his mouth. You’re impressed that the kissing managed to stay rather chaste — or chaste as you could keep it in public. 

Both your hair and his are a bit mussed from having each other’s hands in it, your faces are flushed, and obviously both your lips have a visible swell to them. Nafla shows an impressive self-restraint similar to what he had at the club last night; he didn’t put his hands anywhere scandalous, but he did pull your thighs onto his lap. If you just adjusted your sitting position a bit, you would be sitting right on him. And god, you kind of really want to. Would that be too much?

“Do you have to stay long?” You ask in a rather weak voice. 

“Mm, no. Not really.” He kisses you again, “It’s just a party for a Korean holiday, but I’m just surprised that so many people were able to make it.”

“Do you want to stay and talk to your friends?” You offer, “It must be rare to have everyone together like this. You should catch up with people.”

“And what? Leave you alone to get swept up by all these other guys?” He says playfully, hugging you closer by your waist. 

You giggle at the slight possessiveness, absolutely loving it, “I’ll just go dance. Or swim. Or eat. Whatever, there’s a ton of things for me to do here. I’ll be fine. You should enjoy yourself too. Talk to your friends.”

“You sure?” He lowers his chin as he continues looking at you. 

“Yeah, and tell you what; if you wanna check on me, just bring me over for a drink.” 

“Well, alright. If you’re cool with it.” He sets you down on your feet and escorts you back to the bar first since you said you wanted more liquor. But he doesn’t leave without making a show of covering your shoulders with his jacket and whispering into your ear in front of the others, “Just come find me if you need anything.”

“Will do.” You thank him and he’s off before he can catch you taking a subtle whiff at his collar. It smells good. 

You make light conversation with the bartender and get his story as you nurse your drink, but eventually, others begin to start up a conversation with you as well. You must be a topic of interest since you’ve been prancing around on Nafla’s arm and unabashedly making out with him by the poolside so far. So for the next hour, you introduce yourself however many times to so many different people; some of whom you know of, and some of whom you don’t. 

By the time you’re down to your third drink since you got to the bar, you’re kind of high on liquor and clout. You have talked to more famous people in the past hour than you’ve ever encountered in your entire life, including the ones you’ve paid to see live. The mixed drinks in your body are making you giggly and the excitement of getting to talk to your favorite singers and rappers and producers is making you light-headed. So you turn down the next drink and conversation in favor of returning to the dance floor. 

Slipping your arms into the sleeves of Nafla’s jacket, you relish how cool it must make you look — even though you’re wearing nothing by a bikini underneath. But there are other people dancing in swimwear and without shoes, so you probably don’t have to care. And you feel less and less obligated to when a great song comes up and you just ebb into the rest of the crowd. 

You recognize some people here, or at least you think you do, because they sure recognize you. A few of them are welcoming you with shouts and gestures to dance with them, so you somehow manage to seamlessly join in with their group. Though if anyone asked you what their names were, you cannot for the life of you list even one of them. Which is freaking ridiculous because you know their voices and faces from your playlists and their music videos. 

But then again, you’re here to dance, not think. So that is exactly what you do in an attempt to sober up even a little bit. People come and go to drink, smoke, eat, go to the bathroom, or whatever it is they go to do, but the atmosphere remains lively. This is probably going to be the party of your lifetime, the one you’ll remember forever and talk about over and over until your friends hate you for it. 

You almost don’t want Nafla to pull you aside and take you back to his room and fuck you all night. Almost. 

When he does pull you to the side to rest, you realize this is your first break in what must be… hours? Who knows. “Wow, you really know how to go off on that floor.” 

“You think so?” You giggle, accepting the water he hands you and gulping it down without stopping for air. 

“Do you not get tired? I’ve been watching you for a little while now.”

“When I go out, I go out all night.” You sweep your hand through the air as if to seal your proclamation. “But don’t worry, I still have energy to play around with you.” You lean in to tease. 

“Well good,” he chuckles, “Why don’t we go then?” 

“Okay!” You chime, taking his hand and letting him lead you back towards the lounge entrance. 

However. 

“Wait! Wait.” You tug on Nafla’s hand to stop him in his tracks and drag him back towards the dance floor when you hear your absolute  _ favorite _ song start up. “After this song. Just this one.”

Nafla feigns an exasperated sigh but follows you with a smile. You don’t bother dragging him into the heart of the crowd, so you just linger on the side of the dance floor. But you’re still revved up on celebrity meetings, countless drinks, Nafla’s affection, and now your motherfucking favorite song in your whole music library. 

You bust out your best moves and flirt with your body instead of your words this time. Nafla’s loose, unbuttoned jacket definitely helps you with the playfulness of it all when you let it slide down your shoulders to show off your skin and bikini before letting it slide back onto your arm with another big movement. Come the last chorus of the song, you’re dancing up to him and rolling your body right up into his, front and back, like you’re his own personal stripper or something. 

All good things must come to an end, and you’re loathe for your best song to end, but Nafla is giving you a look like he’s ready to throw you onto the floor and have you right here and now. Guess that means you’ve teased him a bit too much, but you can’t help giggling when you readjust his jacket on your shoulders again. He barely lets you get it on right before slinking his arm around your waist and practically pushing you out of the lounge. There are some cheers and whistles behind you, but you’re still high off the evening and your own laughter. 

Nafla keeps you hugged to his waist through the duration of the elevator ride and the walk to his hotel room. Your laughter settles along the way and you find yourself calming with every whiff of his cologne when you bring your nose close to his neck. 

When the door closes behind you, Nafla chuckles, “Finally got you all to myself.” 

“Give me one sec,” you say, making straight for the bed and flopping on to one side of it. You yank the duvet towards your body and roll over twice until you’re completely wrapped up in the blankets like a burrito on the other end of the bed. 

Then you scream. 

You let out a good, long cry and muffle it into the covers until you let all the excitement of the entire evening meeting all those stars and holding in your utter joy and amazement. You scream and even thrash around on the bed for a good thirty seconds or so before you roll back out of your blanket burrito and sit up. 

Tossing your hair out of your face, you give Nafla a neutral look because he is definitely staring at you, “Alright, I’m good. I’m ready to see if you can actually make me scream all on your own.” You tease with a smile as you position yourself cutely on the bed. 

Nafla stares for another few seconds before breaking out into laughter, “What the heck was that?” 

“I had to get all that excitement out from this evening first!” You sigh as you collapse on your back, “I couldn’t just keep it all bottled up. Besides, it’d have given you a false start and I wouldn’t want that to get to your head.” 

“Trust me,” he says as he climbs onto the bed to hover over you. His face is only a couple centimeters from yours, but it feels even closer than it was last night at the club. “I don’t need a head start.” 

You can’t help it, you smile. After all that has happened to you tonight, you’re still exactly where you want to be. “Prove it.” 

  
  


*

  
  


Thankfully, there were enough condoms available to you guys to use the entire time. You are impressed with both of you for going at it as long as you did. And you fucked around in the morning too. God, it was beautiful. It you could have one night never end, it would hands down be this night. 

Nafla was quite the cuddler too. You woke up to the warm, inviting sensation of his arms around your waist and the sexy, sleepy groan of his morning voice when you tried to stretch your limbs while in his hold. When he had pulled you in and taken a deep whiff of your neck before rolling his body to lie on top of yours, you had to wonder again if maybe you hadn’t actually woken up yet. And if this would just be the best perpetual dream you’ve ever had. 

But it was real. His morning wood was especially real, but you took care of it and thoroughly enjoyed sleepy Nafla for as long as possible before you both got up to shower. And soon, you come across a dilemma.

“Shit, I left all my stuff upstairs last night.” You realize. Your dress, your purse, your phone, your keys, your extra underwear, all of it. All you had to your name right now was the damp bikini from last night. You’re guessing that Nafla would want his jacket back. 

“It’s cool, we can go back up and get it. I’m sure they kept it somewhere safe.” Nafla offers, coming up to hug you from behind and place a sleepy kiss on your shoulder. He is playing so unfair right now. How are you not supposed to completely fall in love with him?

He lets you get dressed up in one of the hotel robes before taking you back up to the rooftop lounge receptionist to ask about your forgotten belongings. There’s a bit of back and forth with you having to retrieve them from some other department of the hotel, but you do eventually get it all back; sangria stain and all. Luckily it’s not too visible through the black fabric, but you’ll still need to go through some trouble to get that cleaned later. 

Nafla whistles when you slip it back on back in his room, “Wish I coulda seen you walk in with that last night.” 

“What? Me popping out of the water half naked wasn’t sexy enough for you?” You chuckle, adjusting the straps and tossing your hair around with your hands in an attempt to make yourself resemble something tidy. 

“It’s a tough choice to make.” Nafla says in low, sandy voice you had gotten to know quite well last night. It shakes you up even now, while you’re sore enough to stay in bed for another day. 

As reluctant as you are to leave, you know that all great things must come to an end. You do, however, let him walk you downstairs to wait for your cab. Once in the lobby, you both hold off on any more physical contact, in the case that there are any onlookers. Not that it’d be hard to guess what happened between you two anyway, but still better not to fan the flames. 

He waits with you outside of the hotel entrance for the taxi to come around, and you’re grateful to spend these last minutes with the boy of your dreams. “Thanks again, for letting me see you again.” You say while you can. “It was undoubtedly the best night of my life.” 

“Well, it was a pretty great night for me too.” Nafla smiles back at you, “So I’m glad you came.” 

“So am I. You’re the best.” You risk a quick squeeze of his hand as your taxi rolls around, “See you around.” 

“Yeah, see you.” He lets your touch linger when you let go to step into the car and even closes the door for you!! 

It’s only when the hotel is out of sight that you start squealing behind your purse. Your cab driver gives you a look but you don’t care. You literally just spent an entire night with your favorite Korean rapper of all time and he seemed like he had fun!!!! You can’t believe you got to fulfill your dream of being Nafla’s bedwarmer groupie. 

Needless to say, you’re on a high for the next week, and you squeal to all of your friends about it, barely sparing a detail. “Has he texted you since then??” 

“Well, I texted him telling him I got home safe, and he responded to that but that’s it.” You answer.

“Why didn’t you keep the conversation going??” One of your other friends demands, practically spilling her drink all over the table. 

“Come on! He’s famous and he’s busy, and I was obviously just a night of fun.” You roll your eyes, “We said everything we needed to say while I was still there. If he wanted to continue talking, he would have!” 

“Yeah, but—“ 

All kinds of arguments and discussions ensue about how you should go about it since you have his contact information. But you shut down all the opportunities they suggest because when it comes down to it, “I live and work somewhere totally different. What would we even talk about afterwards anyway? There’s no point trying to force it after the fact. It’d just make me look desperate, and I’d like to stay a good memory, thank you very much.” 

Of course it didn’t stop at that, but it was the reality of the situation. And you wouldn’t dare to try changing any of it when you were already so grateful for the experience. You won’t ever forget him, or how much fun you had, or how well he treated you, and you’re glad that it came to an end as sweetly as it did. 

  
  


*

  
  


Or how it was supposed to, at least. 

You’ve just finished teaching your weekend dance sessions at the gym when you check your phone to see you’ve gotten some messages from the man you thought you left back in Seoul. 

_ ‘Hey. I forgot to send these to you a while back.’  _

The message is followed by several pictures of you standing beside Beenzino looking like a star struck sewer rat under the horrid lighting of the evening lamps in your bikini and damp hair. But the memories of the entire evening wash over you with a giddy electric current. 

_ ‘Omg i look like a wet dog but thanks!! I totally forgot about these’ _ you text back. 

You hesitate with sending a follow up text, wondering if you should ask how he’s doing or mention an update about yourself or something. But eventually, you decide against it and stuff your phone in your pocket before grabbing your stuff to head out to your car. 

Once you’re settled in your seat and about to start the car, however, you see that you’ve gotten another reply. You try to settle your trembling heart when you pick up the phone to read the messages. 

_ ‘I think they’re cute haha’  _

_ ‘How’ve you been?’  _

“Oh my god!!” You squeal to yourself. You’re  _ texting Nafla _ . Holy fucking shit, how is this even real right now?? Your fingers quickly fly over the screen to type your reply. 

You gasp when he responds almost right away, and you follow up with your own response. And it just continues back and forth before you realize you’ve been sitting in your car in the gym parking lot for almost an hour. Your stomach is starting to protest so you order some food delivery, start the car, and make the drive home. You don’t think you’ll be able to focus on cooking tonight. 

Somehow, you’re still texting Nafla when your pizza arrives, and when you get out of the shower and get ready for bed, and while you’re lying in bed when you know that you should be asleep already since you have work early tomorrow. But you don’t want the conversation to end. He’s so cute, and funny, and he makes it so easy to talk to him. 

Eventually, you do fall asleep and have to follow up with his text in the morning. But luckily, since you didn’t end your conversation with ‘I have to go to bed,’ you’re able to continue talking to him throughout the next day. And the next. And the next. Honestly, you’re surprised that you’re both able to talk to each other for so long without running out of too much to say.

However, he does get busier as the week goes on, and so do you. Your replies become more spaced out while you’re both busy working or doing whatever, and the time difference makes the timing hard too. Until eventually, the conversation comes to a comfortable stop. It’s kind of convenient for you because you suddenly have a new project that you have to put a little more focus on, which you probably wouldn’t be able to if you were shaking in your seat waiting for Nafla — or Nick, as he said you could start addressing him — to reply. 

You both kind of leave it at that for a while. You recall he mentioned he had some shows to do, and the schedule lineup on the MKIT RAIN website does make him and his friends look busy. Especially since he’s doing a lot more magazine shoots now, which you also plan to order and add to your collection. It was nice while it lasted, catching up with him. He’s starting to feel more like a friend you met in Korea rather than a rap star who has millions of fans across the world. 

Still, you have to remember that he is someone who has many fans in his life. And many people in his life, including girls. You can’t hold your heart out for him just because he’s being friendly after your greatest one night stand in history. 

You know this, but you still find it hard to stop thinking about him. And talking about him to your friends. They were excited to hear about your initial encounter, but they’re now on the more practical side and telling you to let him go, since there isn’t a high chance that you’ll get to see him again without going back to South Korea. So you settle into the reality of it, and do your best to let him go and out of your head. 

  
  


*

  
  


And of course, just when you’re starting to get used to it, that’s when he texts you again. Out of the blue, after weeks of not speaking a word to each other. He sends a picture of a husky that’s hanging out at one of his recent work places. 

_ ‘I can’t look at huskies anymore without thinking about you lol’ _

You chuckle aloud. You had gone on and on about how adorable you found huskies and bombarded him with facts about them and how much you wanted one of your own someday. And now, it seems it’s become a reminder of you for him. 

_ ‘How do you think i feel whenever i see anything that has to do with Coca Cola?’ _ You write back. 

And just like that, it starts all over again. You guys talk into the night and the next few days about everything there is to talk about. You update each other on your lives and you start to miss him all over again. The more you talk to him, the more you want to switch gears and get a little flirty, send him a dirty picture or something. But you can’t interrupt this nice flow you two have going. You’re talking like you’re old friends and you won’t ruin this possible budding relationship — whatever it may be — between you because of your libido. 

However, the conversation eventually fades out like it did last time, after over a week of texting each other regularly. And you’re back to square one. 

Obviously, you rant to your friends about how you feel like you’re being strung along and don’t know what this even is that’s happening between you. “Do you think he’s just keeping in touch with me occasionally so that he’ll have a booty call ready if he ever comes here or something?” You wonder. 

“It’s possible. You never know with famous dudes.” Your friend shrugs, taking a sip of her drink. 

You reach over to steal one of her fries before continuing, “Should I keep talking to him? I really like him, but I doubt that anything practical or serious will come out of this.” 

“Well, if you’re trying to look for something serious, then I’d say yeah, stop talking to him. But if you’re willing to keep messing around for a while, then just keep talking to him. See where it goes — if it ever goes anywhere, that is.” 

You groan, tempted to drown into your own salad, “We haven’t talked in almost two months. Should I text first this time?” 

“If you want to.” She shrugs. 

“Thanks, so helpful.” You deadpan.

Your friend smiles back cheekily, popping another fry into her mouth, “You’re welcome.”

  
  


*

  
  


You text him first. Not out of desperation, but simply because you could use another opinion from someone who’s probably attended way more formal events than you have. A company banquet is coming up, and you’re helping host the event, so you can’t just show up in a regular old closet gown. 

So you send Nafla three mirror selfies of the different dresses and ask him which one is most appropriate for a company holiday party. Your heart is pounding as you wait for the response, but luckily you’re not left to tremble for too long, because he responds within the hour. 

And just like that, conversation picks up as usual, for days. This time, it almost lasts for three weeks, even with the laggy responses. By that time, your holiday party has happened and the new year is coming up. Unfortunately, you don’t get to share your happy new year texts with him because your conversation dies out just a little after Christmas, when Nafla is getting busy with all the holiday hip hop concerts. A shame. 

So you sulk a little throughout the beginning of the year, until Nafla texts you again some time after Valentine’s Day. It’s the usual pattern again, but this time, about a week into the new conversation, he says the wildest thing you’ve ever heard. 

_ ‘I’ve got a couple of free days coming up. I was thinking of coming to visit your city’  _

Your heart stops when you read that text. You stare at it in complete shock, unable to move your fingers in a response before a follow up message appears:

_ ‘Wanna be my guide?’  _

You scream into your living room, jumping around the room like you’ve just won the lottery. You’re probably bothering or worrying the neighbors, but who the fuck cares??  _ Nafla _ might be coming to visit you!!!!! You may get to see him again!!!!! Holy fucking shit!!!!!!! 

Doing your best to tone down the exclamation points in your response, you answer that you would absolutely love to act as his guide and welcome him to your city. And for the next couple weeks, you busy yourself with organizing an itinerary on what to do and where to go with your favorite rapper, who’s flying into  _ your _ country,  _ your _ city, to see  _ you _ .

Okay, there’s no guarantee that he’s actually only here to see you. Maybe he actually just wanted some time to travel on his own and explore a new place, and he wanted to go somewhere that he would have a trusted guide to bring him around. But come on, what other reason would he choose here of all places to go if not for you? 

You try not to let it get to your head, but you are way too fucking excited to see him. Your friends are starting to get concerned for you. 

“I can’t believe a famous Korean rapper is coming here to see you. If he’s not into you, then I’m gonna start drinking goat milk instead of water.” One friend says. 

“Oh my god, are you going to stay with him while he’s here??” Another asks. 

“And are you gonna let him in your pants again?” Another chuckles. 

“Oh my god!” You shout, “Shut up. I’m playing it cool for now. I’ll take him to whatever hotel he wants to stay at, but I can’t assume that I’m gonna be with him the entire time.” You say logically. 

They stare at you, waiting for you to follow up. So you break, “But I really do hope that he slams my guts again.” 

All of you scream together and you just continue drown in your own excitement to see him again. You hope you can get it together by the time he actually arrives. 


	2. Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Or maybe you have a lifetime of opportunities

You hold up a sign when you wait for him to come out into the arrivals hall at the airport. When he comes out and sees it, he bursts into laughter as he approaches you with his arms out for a hug. 

“Where did you get a picture like that?” He asks as you hug him back gently. 

“I commissioned an artist to make it. Here you are, sir.” You hand him the cardstock picture of a baby husky popping out of a Coca Cola can and take hold of his small rolling suitcase. “Let’s go.” 

“Thank you.” He chuckles, following right beside you towards the airport parking lot where your car is. 

Conversation flows freely between you two as you put his belongings in the trunk and have him join you in the passenger’s seat. “Here, I got you a prepaid SIM card that you can use while you’re here.” You fish out the card from you bag. 

“Say what. Oh wow, thank you.” He takes it gratefully and gets to work on switching out the SIM cards in his phone while you back out of your spot and drive towards the exit. You confirm with him the name of the hotel before you make your turn onto the right lane and start towards your destination. 

“Wow, you really came prepared with everything. Thank you.” He says as he leans back in his seat, looking out of the windows to take in the sights of the city passing by. 

“Of course! If I’m gonna be your guide, then I sure as hell am gonna be the best.” You scoff, “I got a lot of stuff for you to see, but we can take it as slow as you like. You must be tired after your flight.” 

“A little bit, but I’m all good now that I’ve seen you.” He smiles. 

“Smooth talker.” You chuff before you both laugh and update each other on the recent happenings in your lives as you drive to the hotel. And although your eyes are on the road the majority of the time, you can’t help a few quick glances over at him. 

He’s as cute as the last time you saw him. His hair is a lot more faded out now after having gone through a couple new styles and looks since the last time you saw him, and his skin is a little fairer after the winter, but overall you don’t notice any stark differences. He’s still as awe striking as he was to you before. It’s still unbelievable that you went to personally pick up Nafla at the airport. 

You hope that he’s impressed with or at least enjoying the small effort you put into your look today. It’s nothing fancy, since you didn’t want to stand out too much, but you did doll up your hair and face a little differently. And maybe this is a new shirt, but that’s it. You still have a casual-day-out look about you. 

Once you arrive at the hotel, you accept the offer for the valet service even though you don’t usually. It’s just a little more hassle than it’s worth to park on your own and find your way back up to the lobby when you’re taking a celebrity around. You join him at the front desk and Nafla takes care of most of the check-in process, so you just drag his suitcase along when you receives his key card. 

“Oh wow, it’s nice.” You whistle when he opens up the door to his room on the 20th floor. It’s a little more spacious than the average room, and has a luxurious bathroom area. The view isn’t too shabby either. 

You take your time scoping the place while Nafla gets his stuff together. He offers you a drink but you decline and just take a seat on the loveseat by the window. “So you’re here for like, three days, right?” 

“Yeah, flying out around noon after the third night, so I gotta get to the airport in the morning.” He replies, putting all his essentials in his small over-the-shoulder fanny pack — hype beast brand, of course. “But until then, let’s go and make the most of it.” 

He’s standing all packed, ready to go out on the town. He didn’t bother changing, but he did put a cap on, which you think always looks cute on him. “You sure you don’t need to rest a bit or anything?” You offer as a last chance. 

“Nah, fuck sleep. Let’s go.” He nods towards the door, and you follow his lead. You were hoping he’d say that. 

  
  


*

  
  


After getting a light lunch at a nearby chain restaurant that you happen to love, you take him towards the city center for the biggest tourist attractions first. You act as his photographer and take the coolest pictures of him, and even pose in a few silly photos yourself. It’s weird to think that Nafla is taking pictures with you to keep in his phone instead of the other way around. Though you do do the same. 

Once the late afternoon settles in, however, you bring him to your favorite place for a long walk — the bay park. “It starts around where the bridge is, but stretches out across the rest of the city, so it’s a popular place for a lot of people to just jog or ride their bikes. Kind of like the Han River, in a way.” You explain. 

“Wow, it’s incredible.” He takes a breath when he sees the view and takes in the cool afternoon breeze. “How is this not more famous in tourist sites and books?” 

“Leave it alone, we locals gotta have a spot to ourselves.” You wave him off but lead him towards the walking path right by the water. “You okay with walking for a bit?” 

“For sure.” He agrees. 

The conversation begins to slow between you as Nafla continues looking out into the bay and the view of the city while you just reminisce in the fact that you’re taking a sunset stroll with your celebrity K-hip hop crush. But after a couple minutes of relaxed silence, you decide to take it a step further. 

“Wanna listen to some music with me?” You pull out your Bluetooth earphones. 

“Yeah, sure.” He smiles, taking one of the wireless earphones from you and sticking it in his ear. You try to stay calm about it as you pull out your phone to look through your playlists. 

“I’m about to bare my soul to you.” You confess, picking your go-to playlist for a long walk. “But feel free to ask me to skip.” 

“Sounds good.” 

“And we can switch to yours on the way back.” You offer, chuckling giddily at the idea of being able to listen to what Nafla has in his own music library. 

You start with a familiar, upbeat Korean song and leave it on shuffle for the time being, letting your pace match the beat as you continue along the bay path. And honestly, this makes the whole experience a lot more pleasant — as music usually does. Nafla nods and bounces along beside you as you continue walking and you share glances and smiles with each other every so often. 

But it’s only a couple minutes into the walk when a new song pops up and you can feel your arms twitching, itching to do a wave or some sort of dance move. In truth, a lot of the time that you come here to walk, you come in search of inspiration for a new set of choreography to a new song you want to do for a class. Or sometimes, you just want to take a moment to stand off to the side of the park and dance to the music in your earphones without a care as to who’s watching in the area. 

It’s hard to hold off on those impulses with Nafla here, but you don’t want to get too crazy when it’s only his first day here. As well as his first time seeing you again after several months. But you suppose you can’t hide it even if you try, because Nafla suddenly asks, “You look like you really want to dance right now.” 

You turn as see that he has what must be an amused, but can pass as a forgiving smile on his face. So you relent and sigh, “Yes… I really love this song.” 

“Okay, show me what you’re feeling.” He encourages you. 

“You sure? You’re not gonna get embarrassed and run off?” You laugh. 

“I didn’t say that.” 

You hit his arm lightly with a little pout, and he quickly follows up to say that he was kidding, and that it is completely okay if you want to dance. “Well, thanks.” You say, “Hope you don’t regret it.” 

You let this song pass and end before you start bouncing along more visibly to the next one. Thank goodness he asked, because you don’t know if you would’ve been able to hold back for this one. You’re already lip syncing along to the words and sweeping your arms out in front of you to dramatize the song, and Nafla is happily laughing at you. 

But when you pull up a few steps ahead to start spinning and adding some footwork, that’s when he pulls out the camera. You protest at first, but he keeps finding a way to record you anyway when you start dancing again, so you just come to terms with the reality that Nafla will have some embarrassing videos of you in his possession. 

At some point, you actually pull him aside to one of the balcony areas of the path and ask him to help play the song while recording you with your phone. “I’ll use it as a point of reference when I’m putting the choreo together later.” 

Admittedly, you feel less silly when you have Nafla there with you recording and looking like he’s supporting you than when you’re out here on your own. He seems to find you entertaining too, so at least you manage to keep the mood light. “You’re a riot.” He chuckles when you announce that it’s time to turn around and head back to the car. 

“Let’s listen to your music now. I don’t want to be the only one jamming out here.” You suggest. 

So Nafla connects his phone to your earphones this time and pulls up a playlist of his own. As expected, it’s a bunch of hip hop songs, though they don’t really seem to have a uniform theme about them. You recognize at least half of the ones that play, but a lot of them, you haven’t heard before. It’s interesting to get to know his music taste. To know that this is what Nafla listens to on the regular, that this is what helped inspire him to pursue the career he has now. 

Despite not knowing some songs, you still bounce along to some of them, and even ask him to send you the names of one or two that you’d like to listen to on your own in the future. But most of the walk continues without too much conversation between you on the way back, just the nice breeze and the great view. 

Until you’re caught by surprise when Nafla slips his hand into yours. You had been staring out into the bay as usual when you felt his soft, but firm hand take a gentle hold of yours. Of course you snap your head around to look at him, then down at your hands, then at him again with that adorable innocent look on his face. When he offers you nothing but a small smile, you crumble and just smile back before turning back to face the water. 

Mostly to hide the actual gigantic smile piercing across your cheeks because Nafla!!!! Is holding!! Your!!! Hand!!!!!! Like you’re a couple or something!!! It’s so freaking cute, you want to scream, but you’re somehow afraid that it might actually travel across the oceans back to South Korea where his main fan base will find you. 

You take a quick peek around to see if any of the other bystanders are staring at you, or if anyone might recognize Nafla (which they haven’t so far, luckily for you), but you just let it be and allow yourself the euphoria of holding your favorite rapper’s hand while you daydream about him as your boyfriend. 

There’s a buzz in your heart for the rest of the evening when you take him out for dinner at one of your favorite local restaurants and then to a nice bar that you’ve been to once before. You both talk casually and amiably and give off no more displays that may hint that you two are more than friends, and the entire evening remains pleasant even so. 

By the time you bring him back to his hotel, it’s almost midnight. You’re about to drop him off at the front and drive home, but he stops you, “Come spend the night.” 

“What?”

“Come on, I don’t want you to go yet.” He rubs his hand persuasively on top of yours that’s on the gear shift, “Stay the night with me.” 

“I- I have a class tomorrow morning.” You point out, though really, all you want is to stay with Nafla for the whole night, “I was just gonna come back and meet you for lunch or something.” 

“You can still make it.” His hand is rubbing on your forearm now, and moving up to rest on your shoulder. He moves in close to your ear to whisper, “I’ll try not to keep you up too late.” 

You close your eyes and try to disguise your shudder with an exasperated sigh before putting the car back in drive, “Fine.” 

When you’re back in Nafla’s room after leaving your car in the hotel garage, he requests to shower first, so you agree and use the time while he’s in there to try and settle your nerves. 

By texting your group chat with your closest friends,  _ ‘I’M STAYING WITH HIM TONIGHT LASDJFOAIEW’ _

You type out as many details as you can in the conversation with all the excited replies that pop up until Nafla appears back in the room, freshly cleaned in some simple pajamas. “You can shower now if you want.” 

“Okay,” you say, sending a last update and promise of more details later before putting your phone on do not disturb mode. 

“Here, you can wear this for tonight.” He offers you a t-shirt, which you gratefully accept before heading into the bathroom. 

You stare at yourself in the mirror as you silently freak out and mouth to yourself all kinds of things while you’re hidden away from Nafla. You cannot believe you’re going to spend the night in his hotel room, wearing his shirt, doing… who knows what with him. As you wash off in the luxurious, marble-tiled shower, your mind wanders back to the glorious, pleasure-hazed memories of how you spent your last night with him. You don’t want to hold any expectations based on what happened before, but your body is thrumming in anticipation for what could happen next. 

When you reappear into the bedroom with absolutely nothing on except his shirt — you washed your underwear in the shower and you’re letting it dry so you can wear it tomorrow morning — you come to find that Nafla is tucked in to the waist in the duvet on the bed, watching a movie on the TV. He turns to you with a smile and pats the other side of the bed, beckoning you to join him. 

You settle yourself into the bed carefully, making sure the hem of the shirt still covers the top of your thighs even when you slide onto the mattress. “Endgame?” You try to identify the movie he’s watching.

“Infinity War.” 

And so begins a whole discussion of the Marvel series, which expands into other movie genres and topics until Nafla interrupts to bring your attention to the scene playing. And soon, you’re both too drawn into the plot of the film to talk anymore. 

At one point, however, he does take a moment to murmur to you, “C’mere,” to press you close to his side and put his arm around your shoulders. Your heart flips at the proximity and intimacy of the position, with the both of you rested against the pillows, every inch of your sides touching from torso to leg, and your head that could easily lay on his shoulder. It’s a wonder if he can’t feel your heart beating in your chest. 

Eventually, you do get a little tired of holding your head up to watch the movie when there’s a perfectly viable headrest available to you that would allow you to continue watching just fine, so you give in and tuck your head into the crook of Nafla’s neck for the remainder of the movie. He’s incredibly warm, and buff, from what you can tell. Maybe even more so than the last time you were with him. 

The movie continues on, and you sink into the absolute perfection of this moment. You’re cuddled up against Nicholas Choi, wearing his shirt in his room, after he flew into your city and asked you to stay the night with him. You don’t want to dare to ask, but could there really be anything better than this? 

You suppose there can, when Nafla turns his attention over to you and finds tears coming down your face as the end credits begin rolling. “Aw, are you okay?” 

“Yeah.” You croak, sniffling as you wipe at the tears, “It’s just… his voice at the end. It’s heartbreaking.” 

“Yeah, it is.” Nafla swipes his thumb across your cheek at a tear you might’ve missed, and looks at your face so intensely that you start to wonder if you did something wrong. 

But as he stares longer, and starts stroking some of your hair back from your face, you begin to pick up on the shift in the mood. You wait for him to make the first move though, just staring back at him with a vulnerable look in your eyes until he leans in to kiss you. 

Wow, it’s amazing. As amazing as it was the first time. And the second, and third, and all the times after that. He adjusts you to have you lie down more flatly on your back so he can plant a hand on the other side of your head to kiss you more deeply. Your idle hands slide up his chest and come up to cup his face. It feels a little more intimate that he may be going for, but you can’t help it. You just feel so warm and soft and close to him right now, you need to hold him. 

Needless to say, you didn’t need the shirt after all throughout the rest of the evening. And Nafla didn’t manage to keep his word about trying not to keep you up too late. 

  
  


*

  
  


“You were so incredible.” 

“Thanks, I do my best.” 

Nafla is waiting for you to pack up your stuff in the gym dance studio after your morning hip hop class. He decided to join in since it was a drop in class anyway, and you were nervous, but happy to have him. The class was small, as it usually is on Saturday mornings, but luckily they all had plenty of energy. And Nafla was able to follow along just fine about ten minutes into it. 

“I’m impressed you’re still capable of teaching a class. Thought I might’ve worn you out this morning.” He teases. 

“Shut up, it wasn’t all that.” You roll your eyes. 

After a long, tender, late-night romp that lasted until about 3AM, you both managed to fall asleep for a couple of hours before Nafla woke you with his wood poking your back. And well, since he was a light sleeper, he easily woke up when you simply groaned and stretched against his hold on your waist. But even with morning breath and the exhaustion of a day out and night in, he still kissed you and initiated a round of lazy morning sex. 

Which was absolutely euphoric, so you claiming that it ‘wasn’t all that’ is just a bit, fat lie. And Nafla knows that, but he lets you have it as you lead the way back to your car so you two can go grab some lunch. 

“So what’s on the itinerary for the rest of today?” He asks as he digs in. 

“Well, actually I have some work to do on my laptop for a bit, so I was  _ hoping _ we could chill at a cafe for a bit this afternoon?” You give him an innocent, but pleading look. 

“Sure, we can do that.” He agrees. 

“Great! Thank you, it’s just that I really want to get it out of the way so that I won’t be thinking about it for the rest of the weekend.” You explain, “But I’ll take you to my absolute favorite cafe in the city. It might not be that impressive compared to the ones in Korea, but I really love it.” 

Nafla seems to find it not too shabby either when you bring him in and order your drinks. You sent him off to find a table while you paid, since you’ve been paying for a lot of the meals during your outings. “It’s the least I can do,” you keep telling him that a few meals and drinks are nothing compared to how priceless the experiences you’ve had with him have been. 

He chose a booth near the back, where it’s quieter and slightly more isolated from the rest of the cafe patrons. He took the seat that’s facing the rest of the cafe, so you sit in the booth chair across from him and set up your laptop, “They’ll bring the drinks here.” 

“Cool.” He says, pulling out his phone and tapping around on it. You’ve just started in on your work emails when the drinks arrive, and you leave Nafla to take his photos and send his texts and everything else while you work your way through your tasks. 

About half an hour in, and half a drink consumed, Nafla silently moves out of his side of the booth to join you on yours. “Can I sit here?” He asks. 

“You already are.” You snort, letting him lean against your side and wrap his arms around your waist as you continue to read through and make notes on the documents you’re going through. Nafla just rests his chin on your shoulder and watches as you continue to work, and you suddenly feel tingly and warm at the intimacy. 

Practically speaking, if you wanted to fully focus on your task to get it done faster, you’d ask Nafla to let go and give you some space, because his touch and scent are sending your thoughts all over the place. But you like it so much, so you leave it alone and settle for taking twice as long to read and reread through some sections of the documents. 

Nafla goes back and forth between playfully rubbing patterns in your body and looking through his phone, but he stays close to you no matter the task. At some point, he actually starts kissing at your jaw and neck, claiming that he isn’t looking for attention when you question him. But by the time you somehow manage to get through your list of tasks, Nafla has given you two fresh new hickeys. 

“Oh my gosh, I cannot believe you,” You smack his thigh when you pull up your laptop webcam to inspect the red spots on your collarbone and the side of your neck. 

“Hey, they’re not any worse than the ones you gave me.” He points out, pulling down the collar of his hoodie to reveal the several purple bruises you had left there last night. You had refrained from the love bites that first night back in Seoul, but somewhere in the conversation, he said that it was okay to leave whatever marks you wanted here. Guess he doesn’t see any harm in it since he’s in a country where he isn’t as easily recognized. 

“At least yours can be hidden easily,” you retort, rubbing at what will likely be a very visible mark on the side of your neck tomorrow. You turn to him with narrowed eyes, “Maybe I shouldn’t have been so nice.” 

“Oh yeah? Gonna get your revenge?” He chuckles, like he’s challenging you. 

Instead of answering, you pull him closer by the front of his hoodie and kiss right in the center of his throat, where his adam’s apple is. You can feel him swallow against your lips, even though he’s chuckling casually above you. Slowly, you continue your trail of kisses, higher and higher until you reach the edge of his jaw right underneath his ear. 

You wait a beat and breathe against his skin, to which he responds by gripping you tighter in his hold. His anticipation makes your heart jump in excitement and giddiness, so you put your lips right there on his jaw. And you kiss on him a few times before parting your lips to lock around that small patch of skin, sucking and occasionally licking until you know there’ll be a dark purple bruise forming in a few hours. 

When you let go, and kiss back down his neck, you hear and feel him shiver against you, and your ego just blows up a few sizes. Dragging your nose up from his adam’s apple to his chin, you lean back to get a good look at his face. And you are absolutely gone seeing that breathless, needy look in his eyes. 

You smile in something of a victory, and he shuts you up by pushing his lips back into yours and pulling you closer by the waist until you’re almost on his lap. God, is it possible to get high or drunk off of another person’s scent like this? Does he realize what he’s doing to you? You’ve melted into his hands and against that soft, talented mouth of his. If he can kiss and touch like this, it’s no wonder his music feels so authentic when you hear it. 

When Nafla moans into your mouth, however, that’s when you have to bring things to a pause, “Mm, Nick. Nick, wait.” You pant, stopping his hands from coming any higher up your torso, “No more, not here.” 

He heaves a dramatic sigh, but willingly agrees. He leaves a peck on your nose before moving back to his own side of the booth. You check yourself in the webcam once more and adjust your somewhat disheveled appearance before shutting down your computer and putting all your materials away. “I have a fun place in mind next.” You announce. 

  
  


*

  
  


Nafla’s eyes turn everywhere as he takes in all of the flashing lights of all the arcade games, and the adult fun house area in the center of the facility. There’s an area for rocking climbing and a tightrope course and even a trampoline and ball pit. Basically everything fit for the inner child that still lives within the adult body. “This is so cool.” 

“Yeah, and look at this.” You lead him by the hand over to the Dance Dance Revolution area, where there are a handful of people gathered to watch the college kids who frequent the arcade play the game. 

Nafla watches as they select a hit pop song and follow all the dance steps with the most stylish flair to their movements. It looks like they’re actually performing the choreographed dance rather than playing a virtual game. The only thing that gives it away is the fact that their eyes remain glued to the screen in front of them, watching the arrows carefully as they rapidly climb to signal the next move. 

“That’s fucking crazy! They must practice a lot.” He comments, awestruck by the dancers. 

“Yeah, they’re here every time I stop by this area. They might actually be part of a dance club at school or have their own crew.” You explain. 

“Whoa…” he trails off as he continues to watch. And after several more songs, Nafla turns back to you, “Do you ever play?” 

“Me?” You laugh, “Yeah, I used to. Sometimes. I’m nowhere near this level though.” 

“I dare you to do it.” He challenges.

“Oh, you  _ dare _ me?” You challenge back, “Then I dare you to join me.” 

So that’s how you end up on another DDR machine in the arcade, dancing against Nafla to different hip hop and K-pop songs you found in the catalogue. He’s not that great, but he does make it to C-class scores. Not that you’re much better than him at B-class. You got all the moves, but your rhythm was more awkward than you remember. It’s been a while since you’ve danced to a game. 

Not that it matters, because you and Nafla are just laughing for the rest of the afternoon as you bulldoze through the games in the arcade, winning tickets and getting prizes. You even get a slot to jump around in the trampoline and ball pit area with him. 

He looks like he’s having the time of his life, and you’re so glad that you’re able to see that smile on his face. You feel honored to be able to bring him to such a place to give him that kind of happiness. And by the time you’ve both had dinner and drinks, you decide to just spend the rest of the night in. 

“You sure you don’t want to visit the local club? Because I don’t know if you’ll be able to get up for your flight on Monday if you go tomorrow.” You ask as you pull out your pajamas from your bag. You had made a stop back at your house this morning before your gym class to change and get some spare clothes since Nafla insisted on having you stay with him for his remaining nights here. 

“It’s cool. Besides, why would I need to go to the club when I would just dance with you anyway?” He comes up from behind you and wraps you in a hug before giving you a tender kiss. 

“Oh? So even with all the pretty girls in a different country, you’d still pick me?” You say it teasingly, but you kind of want to take it back once you say it. It sounds more presumptuous than you meant for it to come out. 

Nafla is silent for a moment, which makes it even harder on your nerves and pounding heart, because the last thing you want is to make things awkward by having The Talk. You’re not sure if either of you are ready to put a label on what you have right now, and you’re not sure you’d like the answer that comes out of the discussion either. 

But he takes it easy on you and answers you in that throaty, moody voice, “Of course.” 

And that’s all you need for tonight. 

  
  


*

  
  


Nafla’s last day in town is filled with tour bus rides, short hikes, shopping, bar hopping, and all kinds of food. And like the previous night, he chooses to stay in for his last night with you. You crack open some beers in his room, sing and dance around the room with water bottle mics, you hand-feed him some snacks while you’re both naked in bed watching a movie, take a bath together, give each other massages, and have endless bouts of sex. 

It’s almost as if neither of you want the night to end, so you just do as much as you can to avoid going to sleep. But morning does eventually come, and Nafla has to shower and pack up his belongings. 

While you lie there as he packs, you can’t get out of your own head, wondering if you should talk to him about… what you two are. Are you even anything? You would like to think so. The guy flew all the way out to your city to see you, didn’t announce his travel plans to anyone publicly, and he’s been acting like your boyfriend since he touched down here. 

At the same time, all of that could just be because this is more of a getaway to him. He can’t have the comfort of anonymity in Korea, he can’t hold hands on a peaceful walk in public or make out with someone in a cafe or go around without worrying about being bombarded by fans. So maybe this was his chance to escape all of that and have a temporary girlfriend. 

Maybe that’s what he likes about you. The fact that you’re temporary, and that you don’t bring it up. From the beginning, you’ve always been ready to say goodbye. From the first night at the club, to the second night at the party, and even now, you haven’t brought up anything about seeing him again after this. Maybe he likes the fact that you have no strings attached, and that you make things so easy for him. All the fun without any of the commitment. 

Which you can understand, coming from his position as a famous rapper. It’s hard for him to enjoy moments like this now that he’s shot up to fame. Can you blame him for wanting a taste of it in the midst of all his success? 

No, but you still have yourself to think about. You don’t know if you can go on wondering what you’ll have between you for the next months to come. Is there even anything possible for the two of you? There’s potential, for sure, but the practicality of it all makes it hard. 

And first and foremost, does he even  _ want _ anything more with you? For all you know, this could just be a fun fling for him and he may never contact you again after this. If you suddenly ask the ‘what are we?’ question, you might end up feeling humiliated for even thinking that you had some sort of chance to be with someone in his realm of fame. So should you even bring it up at all? Or should you just let it sit in your mind until after he leaves and deal with whatever will come later? 

Would that be the easier option? To just opt out of the awkward conversation and keep the good memories of his visit in the case that he ends up not speaking to you ever again? You would end up as a hot fling legacy in his past, but you’d be a good memory, you assume. And it would be consistent with what you’ve expected from him since you first met; no expectations and no complications. If he wants to keep reaching out, then he can. 

But then what if he does keep reaching out? What if this keeps happening? Are you just going to be his holiday fling forever? Does that make you seem easy? Or less of a person? That’s the last thing you want, as much as you like Nafla and want to continue getting to know him. But if this isn’t ever going to build into something feasible, then wouldn’t you just be reserving too much of your time waiting for him to get back to you? 

You would love to see him again, but if you ask this question, it could very much end up jeopardizing the relationship you have in the future. Is it worth it? Is any of this going to be worth it?

“What are you thinking about?” Your heart jolts, but you manage to at least keep the shock within your body when Nafla pulls up behind you with a light hug. 

Now’s your chance. 

“Just… can’t believe the weekend passed by so quickly.” 

“Yeah, I know right. It’s crazy.” Nafla agrees with a soft, tender voice. 

_ Chicken _ , you cringe at your inner cowardice. Because you know it’s true. You’re too scared to risk it, especially when it’s just such a rare opportunity to still be in contact with Nafla when you could’ve easily been left as a one-night stand. Yet, you feel kind of relieved that you’ve decided to hold your tongue for the moment. 

The atmosphere between you is still light and sweet as you go with Nafla to check out and drive him to the airport. He summarizes some of his favorite parts of the trip, several of which allude to your reactions when he pleasured you in the evenings. You act offended, but you laugh along and quip back with your own observations of his quirks. 

You can’t believe you know these things about him. To think, you’ve gotten to know Nafla at a deeper level than the average person. Clearly, you’re still leagues away from being someone within his circle, but you’re still in awe of how lucky you’ve been to be able to spend this much time with your favorite rapper. 

Flight check-in is smooth, and you’re especially relieved that there haven’t been any big incidents up until this point. It’s a wonder that not a single person has come up to him or done a double take to try and get a better look at him to confirm that he is indeed Nafla. Though to his credit, he’s wearing a hat and a mask at the airport right now, so that helps a little bit. 

He still has over an hour to get to his gate, so you’re wondering how you should address this farewell. You’re still talking casually as you approach the area for TSA checks, which is where you’ll have to part. So when you actually do make a stop there, you turn to face him and say, “It’s been such a pleasure having you here. I’m so honored that I was able to spend time with you and act as your guide. That you decided to come here for a vacation in the first place.” 

“The pleasure’s all mine. I had the best time, thanks to you.” He smiles at you, opening his arms for a hug, “I almost wish it wouldn’t have to end.” 

“You’re telling me.” You laugh over his shoulder as you hug him tight, wanting to relish every last minute that you get to feel Nafla’s body against yours. 

Then he tackles you with a surprise whisper, “I don’t want to say goodbye just yet.” 

You pull away with a sympathetic pout in your lip, “I can keep you company for a little bit longer before you have to leave.” 

He takes your hand, and you can see his smile in his eyes even behind the mask, “Good. I was hoping you’d say that.” 

  
  


*

  
  
  


On your way back to the car after finally sending him off, you pull up your phone to message the group chat.

_ ‘I literally just had goodbye sex in an airport bathroom’  _

The replies come immediately.

_ ‘WHEN DID U BECOME SUCH A CLICHE’ _

_ ‘Aaahhh!!!!!!’ _

_ ‘YOU DID WHAT’ _

_ ‘GET IT GIRL’ _

  
  
  


*

  
  


He ends up posting a photo set on Instagram of his trip. The only hint that he was with you (or any person at all) is his caption at the end of the post, where he gives photo credit to a wolf emoji. Which is what you’re guessing is the closest thing he could find to a husky, so you like the photo and ignore all the comments about when he was in the country, or the upset from fans that missed him because they know the spots in the photos that he visited, and the handful of questions about a dog taking the photos for him. 

Nafla had texted you for a bit after landing back in Seoul, but eventually things picked up again and he got busy. You’re okay with the distance because you just spent several days with him and only him, and you have plenty of memories to daydream and reminisce about when you’re bored. The goodbye you two shared was rather dramatic since he had fucked you in a handicap stall in the men’s room before taking his flight, but it was seamless. You felt like you got closure and capped it off perfectly without any more expectations for the future. 

So you’re doing a lot better than you were worried about now that he’s back in Korea. Work still keeps you busy, and your friends let you gush about him every time you meet up. And in the aftermath, you’ve actually gotten addicted to quite a number of songs that you felt really narrated your shotgun romance with Nafla, and developed some new choreography to them to illustrate the experience. 

In fact, you even have another fling with someone you meet at the club on a night out with your friends. It wasn’t your best one, obviously, not after you went through such a whirlwind of great sex with Nick, but it was still liberating in a way. You were starting to move on with your life without him constantly on your mind. 

So leave it to him to abruptly stop that good flow with a surprise video call several minutes before your morning alarm is about to go off. 

At first, you’re confused and wondering if you’re dreaming or misreading the name on your phone, because Nafla has never video called you before. In fact, he hasn’t even voice called you before, so this is really coming out of nowhere, especially after several weeks of no contact since he left your city. But who knows? It could be an emergency, so you decide to pick up. 

“Hello?” You groan through your morning voice and try to pry your eyes open wider than a squint. The sunrise is harsher than usual from through the window. 

“Hey, uh…” He hesitates. But wow, you did not realize that just hearing his voice again would do this to you in the morning. “Did I wake you?” 

“What do you think?” You answer cheekily, rolling around and sighing as you look for the strength to lift your phone up to see his face and let him see yours. 

“Oh, sorry. What time is it over there?” 

You look up at the time at the top of your phone screen and relay the information, “Just before 6:30. You jerk.” You add in a playful murmur. 

He laughs and apologizes again, and that’s when you hear chuckles and chatter in the background. “Who are you with right now?” 

“Just some of the guys, I think you might remember them.” He maneuvers the camera around to reveal Bloo, Loopy, and Owen beside him. They all wave and shout hello to you, to which you chuckle and say hi back. 

“So, like…” Nafla starts, looking somewhat nervous, “We were just talking a bit, and the topic of my vacation last time when I visited you came up. So yeah, I just wanted to see your face again.” He finishes awkwardly, “And show it to these guys.” 

“Hello~” Some of them wave again. 

“So you decided to call me before seven in the morning, and expose my crusty ass face to all your friends?” You say, rolling over to your stomach and propping yourself up on your elbows before holding up your phone properly again.

“No, that’s the thing! I was actually telling them how you’re still really pretty without makeup on or anything.” He defends. 

“Yeah, we were talking about how Meg and some other girls we work with all look so different without their makeup on. And then Nick here was all like, ‘nah she’s way prettier when she doesn’t have it on, blah blah blah’ and we were like ‘prove it’ so he just called you.” Bloo goes on to explain. You can’t tell if he’s already had a couple drinks today or if that’s just how he normally talks, but he’s got a happy slur about him. 

But you do pick up on the detail that Nick was talking about you and calling you pretty, which makes your heart leap far too high for the morning. 

“What is this, a college frat dare?” You scoff, tossing your hair out of the way and checking your face in the video camera for any dried up fluids in the corner of your eyes or nose. 

“Oh my god, it feels like it. These guys wouldn’t stop bothering me about it, so that’s why I just called you. Sorry again, for waking you to deal with this bullshit.” Nafla says. 

“He was right though, you’re still very pretty with a bare face.” Loopy decides to interject, and Bloo comes in with a few agreeable comments. 

“Thanks, I guess.” You roll your eyes but offer a sleepy smile anyway. That’s when your phone alarm goes off, so you switch it off and sigh as you slowly slide out of your bed.

“You gotta get ready?” Nafla asks. 

“Yeah,” you sigh, “A regular work day.” 

“Oh okay, well maybe I’ll talk to you later?” He offers, though he sounds slightly disappointed. And that small shift in the tone of his voice is what snatches at your heart and makes you ache not to say goodbye. 

“No, it’s okay. It’s been a while, so I can talk for a bit.” You say as you set your phone on the bathroom counter, “If you actually want to talk, that is.” 

“Yeah, yeah! For sure.” He says, “We got a little time too, and I was wondering how you’ve been doing anyway.” 

You don’t have the energy to warn them that you’re taking a leak, so when they hear the flush and there’s laughter in the background, you can understand the humor, you suppose. “Wait, did you just go to the bathroom while on the call with him?” Bloo asks, laughing. 

“Yeah! A girl’s gotta pee.” You argue, washing your hands and grabbing for your toothbrush. “You go first though, since I gotta brush. What’s been going on with you?” 

You talk throughout your entire morning routine, and most of the other guys eventually leave Nafla alone to chat with you. Though they occasionally do pass by again and ask a question or make a comment about something. As you talk with him over your breakfast and putting on your makeup, you get kind of caught up in the excitement and comfort of talking to him again. 

It’s only when you’re about to start your car to go to work that you decide to hang up. You keep the goodbye casual, but once the line’s cut, you take a deep breath to squeal and bounce in your seat until you’ve calmed down. “Nafla just video called me… He just called me… Ah!!” 

When you’ve finally calmed down enough to start your car and make your way out of the parking garage onto the road, you’re already thinking about how you’re going to slam your keyboard in the group chat. And then, right at a stoplight, a new message appears on your phone, making you almost lose it when you glance over. 

_ ‘I missed the sound of your skin against cotton’  _

The other drivers beside you barely wait when the light turns green, eager to drive away from the crazy person screaming inside of her car. 

  
  


*

  
  


Over the next few months, it’s the same old story. You guys pick up on conversation over text for a week or two before eventually letting it die out, only to pick back up again several weeks later. Sometimes, the talks get deep, sometimes they remain lighthearted and noncommittal. There’s even another video call or two sometimes. But you have completely returned to square one. 

Of course you still go about your life as you normally do, working, dancing, hanging out with friends, occasionally going out, though you’re more reluctant to have flings now because you doubt they’ll ever live up to your experience with Nick. But you spend a lot of your time thinking about him, wondering if you’re holding out for him when you don’t need to be, annoying your friends with questions about him. 

They all have their own takes on the situation, some motivated by self-growth, some motivated by clout, some motivated by adventure, but in the end, you can’t get him out of your head and you don’t know if you want to. Your memories of your time with him still feel so fresh and your body still craves for a man to treat you as well as he did. 

It’s not like you haven’t tried going on a date or two in the meantime, but it’s just so hard to hold up to that standard that you now have. No one makes you feel as euphoric or special as Nick did when he came to visit you. Honestly, who could ever begin to compare? The dude flew to another country to come see you. What could some regular dude possibly do to impress you on a first date anymore? 

You’ve been in the same section of this maze in your head for too long, which is why you decide to take your upcoming vacation on your own. Maybe what you need is some alone time, away from all the familiar friends and restaurants and advice and places that remind you of when you brought Nafla there. You’re going to take your two week vacation and go backpacking somewhere new, somewhere fresh. Somewhere that will give you a whole new state of mind. 

“That’s pretty noble of you, to just take an adventure to yourself and commit to it.” Your friend comments when you explain your plans to the group. 

“Who knows? Maybe you’ll meet someone while you’re traveling around.” Another suggests. “A new man or new friend or whoever they may be.” 

“I sure hope so. Do you think that if I talk to random strangers at a bar about Nick that they’ll all give me different advice?” You wonder.

“I don’t think traveling with the intention to get advice for your love life is the best way to approach your trip.” Another friend deadpans, “But that would be interesting to see the differences in opinion.”

“Also, you have to remember, if you do this, it has to be about you.” Another friend reminds you, “If he happens to hit you up during the trip or he asks about it, don’t let him pull anything crazy.”

You snort, “And by crazy, you mean?” 

“Don’t act like you don’t know what I mean.” She retorts, “He flew out to see you once. Who’s to say he won’t do it again? He’s just going to mess with your head, I’m telling you.” 

“That’s not going to happen, I won’t let it.” You assure your friends, who all give you skeptical looks or just look away while sipping their drinks. “I’m serious! This is going to be my vacation, and I’m not going to let it get ahead of me this time. I mean it.” 

Your friends exchange looks with each other before turning to you, “If you say so.” 

  
  


*

  
  


All goes as planned. You land in Budapest to kick off your trip, then make your way up to Bratislava, Vienna, and then Prague. It’s tougher than you thought it would be traveling alone without a guide or being fluent in all the different languages of the places you visit, but you make do. And you make an adventure of it.

You spend your days hiking mountains, walking through old neighborhoods, visiting cathedrals and museums, eating at bistros and drinking at bars, talking to all kinds of people, evening booking a tour or lesson every so often. It’s all a bit overwhelming just traveling to a new place every two or three days and getting reaccustomed to each new city, but it’s refreshing. And it keeps your mind occupied. 

For the first week. 

_ ‘Hey are you on vacation right now?’ _

You get the text while you’re in Poznan, enjoying your third St Martin’s croissant that day at a nice cafe near your hostel. First, your heart stops, because you can already hear your friends’ voices in the back of your head telling you not to do it. And they get louder as you unlock your phone and open the messaging app, but before you realize it, your reply is sent. 

_ ‘Yeah! On a small Europe tour this time’ _

_ ‘Nice. I saw your pics on IG. Looks cool’  _ His response appears immediately. 

But this is fine, you continue to text him for a few minutes and update each other as usual. Nothing out of the ordinary. 

_ ‘Where are you gonna be in a few days?’ _ He asks. 

_ ‘Depends. I’ll be in a couple other cities in Poland for a bit, but I’m gonna fly to a city in Latvia for the last leg of my trip’  _

Your heart beats as you wait for the next message, and it bursts when you see it actually appear. 

_ ‘Can I come join you?’  _

  
  


*

  
  


You should not be doing this. 

You should not have gotten caught up in the excitement of his request and eagerly planned out the details for his arrival. You should not have cancelled your reservation at a guesthouse and agreed to stay with him in a hotel. You should not have put so much effort into your appearance when you’ve just been bumming it for most of this trip and prioritizing comfort and ease. And you most certainly should not be getting frisky with him on this taxi ride to the hotel. 

“Nick— Nick, wait. Mmph—“ You pull away as he kisses you. 

“I missed hearing you say my name like that.” He chuckles, kissing your cheek and rubbing at your thigh before moving back to his own space in the backseat. 

“Oh my god, chill.” You laugh back, “I missed you too, though.” 

When he just smiles and holds your hand in response, your cheeks can’t take it and you just direct your gaze out the window instead. You’re so warm and your heart is pounding like crazy in your chest. You wonder if he can feel your pulse in your wrist right now. 

After leading him to the room you booked — since you had arrived in Riga first — he sets his stuff down and pins you to the edge of the bed, and just kisses you. He kisses you for a while, slowly, tenderly, like he’s making up for lost time. And he does that several times, only taking small breaks to breathe and look into your eyes before coming right back in. 

And he keeps it rather chaste — with his hands at least. They remain on your hips, occasionally rubbing at them and your butt, but he doesn’t move them anywhere too rated. His lips however, they’re taking you on a ride that you didn’t even know you had been waiting in line for. You feel like you’re in a movie, reuniting with your true love after years apart due to war or something. He actually kisses you just that passionately. 

At some point, you realize you’ve been laid down on the bed and Nafla rests on top of you, like he’s unable to remove his lips from yours. You’re beginning to realize that you never enjoyed kissing any guy as much as you’ve enjoyed kissing him. You could probably do this for hours, and you’re fairly sure he would let you. How are you supposed to not fall even deeper for him like this? 

“Nick…” You sigh, eyes totally glazed over when he next pulls away from you. 

“Ugh, you oughta know you shouldn’t be calling my name like that.” He groans into your neck, finally starting to rub himself against you. 

You hum in pure delight, absolutely high off of this affection and pleasure and company. It’s like you’re finally being properly touched again. “Maybe… Maybe we should hold off for now.” You shiver, voice still shaky from excitement. 

“Sure, that’s probably a good idea.” He groans in his low, sexy voice before lifting himself off of you to stand again.

You two take a few minutes to get your minds and bodies settled before pulling your belongings together in the room and discussing where to go for lunch. Since neither of you are feeling particularly peckish yet, you decide to go buy some food to bring with you on a picnic near the lake. 

Nafla looks up good foods to try out while you navigate where the central market is. And as you’re shopping, it feels like a domestic getaway with your dream man more and more. He jumps and rides on the shopping cart like a kid, debates with you on what drinks to buy, feeds you samples, and attacks you with surprise back hugs. All you’re waiting for is for some old person nearby to ask how long you’ve been married for. 

About an hour or so later, you both get off the bus and trek through the forest of Beberbeku Lake until you find an area with some wooden benches and tables. You sit beside each other on the same bench after you set up all the food and drinks, and Nafla tries feeding you again, which you turn away this time in favor of eating what you actually want to eat. 

“You need to put some veggies in your body, even if you’re on vacation.” You insist. 

“I barely saw any vegetables in the market; clearly the diet here is built on protein.” He argues back. “And pickles.” 

To emphasize his point, he tries to stick one of the pickles from the jar the grocer recommended in your face. “Stop it, I don’t  _ want _ your pickle.” You reject him with the tone of the child. 

“Really? I thought you liked my pickle.” He takes the opening for the lewd joke. “Or was all the screaming last time from all the veggies you ate?” 

“You shut the fuck up!” You scoff, smacking him in the arm, “Don’t turn a cute picnic into something dirty.” 

“Oh please, you’d like it.” He chuffs, smiling as he takes the pickle back. 

“That’s beside the point.” 

“Is it?” He challenges.

“Anyway!” You interrupt the flow of this conversation before anyone nearby starts to listen in, “How’d you get permission for a getaway so soon anyway? Don’t you have shows to do?”

“Yeah, but everyone needs a break every so often, despite how we all rap about no days off.” He slides his arm around your waist to keep you close to him while he eats with his other hand, “So I convinced the team to let me have these couple of days between shows to enjoy myself.” 

“That’s sustainable.” You comment, pulling out a piece of rye bread and smearing it with an herby butter you found in the market. “Have you ever thought about coming here on your own? Or for a show?” 

It’s still hard to believe that you’re able to converse so casually with Nafla of MKIT RAIN like you’re old friends, or an old couple. But he just makes it so easy for you by accepting all of your energy and rallying it back to you. You suppose that’s what makes it so hard to turn away from him. 

You absolutely love this connection you have with Nick, and you can tell that he enjoys being with you too, when he is with you. And despite what your friends warned you about and what you also know may emerge from this, you still want to enjoy the time that you get with him — simply because he took the time to come see you. He wouldn’t be here if he didn’t want to be. 

The intention and sincerity behind it all is a completely different story, but for now, you allow yourself this indulgence. Traveling really becomes so much better when you’re with a companion — especially one that you get to make out with. 

So for the next few days, you explore Riga with Nick beside you, taking pictures, walking through cathedrals and churches, interacting with people at bars, hiking through forests and mountains, everything you had been doing before with a new facet to your vacation. Nick always provides fun conversation, or a comfy shoulder to rest on, and he treats you to a lot of the things the city has to offer this time. 

It’s the time of your life, honestly. You dance along with street performers, you attend a music event together, you eat and drink all kinds of new and strange things, and of course, you have a lot of sex. It’s physically impossible for you and Nick not to get down and dirty when the day comes to an end in your hotel room. If you’re honest, you think that that might actually be the highlight of any day. 

Which also makes you wonder again — is that what he’s here for? Sex and a good time? A private getaway? And can you blame him for that when you’re still here lapping up the attention and affection he gives you? You don’t know how you should approach this anymore because when it comes down to it, you don’t even know what you want from him. 

Commitment? That’s probably going to be the hardest no you’ll ever get smacked with. He’s young and in his prime, and having a committed significant other would bring about all kinds of complications. 

His intention? If he tells you that he doesn’t want anything serious from you, would you still be willing to provide that occasional fling for him? Can your heart continue to handle all the mind games and unanswered anticipation? 

A clean cut? Say worse comes to worst, you end up never speaking to him ever again. It’s the absolute last thing you want, especially after you feel like you’ve gotten close to him, but maybe you should follow your friends’ and family’s advice to just enjoy what you had with him, but put it behind you. Maybe it’s just not meant to be. 

But… you can’t help but hold out that small hope that, maybe — just maybe — he would want something more. Maybe he did put all this effort into keeping in contact with you and flying out to see you because he genuinely likes you. And maybe one day, if he does decide to settle down, he would choose you. 

Because if you lay it all out, and if it were all up to you, you would choose him. You would choose to keep what you have. You would. Even with the distance, even if he’s fucking other chicks on the side, even if you don’t talk for weeks on end. If he would be willing to keep you in his heart, you would wait for him. 

You would. You really like him. You like him as Nicholas Choi now, not just Nafla of MKIT RAIN. He’s more than just a famous rapper to you now; the two of you have history. He’s more familiar with your body now than the majority of the men you’ve been with before. And you like how sweet he is, how he’s humble, and focused, and goal-oriented, and how he treats you well even with all the success that he’s had up until now. 

Now that you’ve come to this realization, you sigh knowing what you have to do. You can’t put this off like you did last time. You’ve known since then that he’s someone special and that you won’t be able to easily get him off your mind if you keep playing head games with yourself like this. 

So on the last night of your trip, the night before Nick has to leave in the morning, you stop him when he tries to pull you on his lap on the bed. If you had more patience, you would just fuck him for one more night and tell him in the morning, but it’s been eating at you all day and you can’t run from your own thoughts anymore. “Nick, wait.”

“Is something wrong?” He looks around your face, searching for signs of distress. 

“It’s not so much wrong, as it is…” You pull away from him and sit cross-legged on the bed in front of him, “Confusing.” 

He blinks at you, looking like he knows what’s coming, like maybe he’s been waiting for this moment to come. So he adjusts his own sitting position to face you, “What is?” 

You take a deep breath and run your hand through your hair, giving yourself a moment, “Look, Nick. These past few days have been incredible. And last time when you came to visit me, incredible. I really enjoyed spending all this time with you and having fun with you like this.” 

“Yeah, me too.” He agrees. 

“Right.” You nod, “But… I don’t know if I can keep doing this anymore. At least, not without knowing what you’re actually thinking.” 

Nick nods like he understands, looking away for a moment before returning his eyes to you, “Okay, what do you want to know?” 

“I think you can guess.” You say, rubbing at your knee nervously, “I like you. A lot. A whole fucking lot. And… I like how I feel when I’m with you, and all the effort you put into coming to see me again. But I don’t know if I can just keep acting like I’m your girlfriend a couple days of the year when I’m just stuck in my feelings for the rest of the year, wondering if you like me back.” 

He continues to nod slowly as you talk, his eyes and body language starting to become more closed off. That doesn’t look good for you. 

But he takes the responsibility upon himself to give you an answer, at least, “I do like you. I really do. Every moment that I’ve had with you, it’s been real. That much is true, I swear to you.” 

You nod, understanding. And then bracing yourself for what’s to come next. “I’m sorry if I’ve been… stressing you out. I guess I got so caught up in how much fun I was having that I didn’t think about how you may have been feeling. I genuinely like you, and I like what we have, but the last thing I want is to put you through pain because of me. So…” 

You can feel your body tensing to brace for impact.  _ Here goes nothing _ . 

“If you’ve had enough that pain, then I totally understand. But I’m going to be honest and tell you I’m not ready for anything serious.”

You nod again, suddenly feeling a prickle of heat behind your eyes that you hadn’t been expecting. But you listen as he continues, “You are so amazing, and maybe if things were different, I’d be with you in a heartbeat.” 

“You say that to all the girls you fuck around the world?” You chuckle in an attempt to lighten up the atmosphere, and distract from the tears forming in your eyes.

“You’re the only one I’ve flown across the world to see, I swear.” He smiles. Well, that does make you feel a little better. Flattered, at the very least. “Actually, you’re the only person I’ve met for a one night thing that I’ve kept talking to. I never had any idea that we’d be where we are now.” 

It’s too late, the tears have already formed. One falls down your face when you blink, but you still smile, happy about what you’re hearing. “Guess this whole thing would’ve turned out differently if you actually had a condom that first night.” You laugh with a sniffle, wiping at your face. 

“Yeah,” Nick chuckles, bringing a hand up to swipe a few tears off your face with his own thumb. “But I don’t regret any of it. I’m glad I met you, and that we’ve done all this. I’ll probably write a song about you one day.” 

You break out in a laugh at that one, but tears still fall from your eyes, ironically enough. “Thanks, I guess. I mean…” you try to find the right words to say while your heart and mind are so scrambled up, “I’ll still like you, and I’m fine with that. But I just needed to know so that my heart isn’t… holding out for you when you know that it’s not gonna become anything.” 

“Yeah… I’m sorry.” He puts his hand on top of yours and wipes at more of your tears with his other hand. 

“I’ll be fine. Eventually.” You take a deep breath. “But, if I ever see you again, I don’t think I can do this again.”

“Nah, I get that.” He nods.

“If you want, I can still be your friend though,” you offer, “If you ever need anything from me, just ask. Although I doubt you’ll need anything from me.” You chuckle. 

“That’d be cool.” 

“But… Just don’t contact me for a bit. I think I need some time to clear my head.” You request. 

“Of course.” He agrees, then opens his arms for a hug, which you accept. And you take your sweet time in his arms, remembering his scent, his touch, his skin. It may very well be your last time. 

When you pull away, you sigh as you look at him, “Do you still wanna have a romp? I’d be down to give you that much.” 

“No, we don’t have to.” He smiles, “I don’t want all this to be too much for you.” 

“It’s okay, I want to.” You insist, slowly rubbing a hand along his leg, “I wouldn’t give up the chance to fuck Nick Choi one last time.” 

He laughs, and that smile makes your heart light up. You’re going to miss it like crazy, you can already feel it. But for now…

“Okay, then. Come here.” He lifts you into his lap, gently rubbing at your back until you come down to kiss him. He’s extra soft and sweet this time, and it just squeezes at your heart even more. 

“Ugh, that mouth of yours is dangerous.” You grunt when you pull away. 

“Oh yeah?” He chuckles.

“Yeah.” You retort with a little attitude, but still playfully, “You kiss a girl like you love her, how do you expect her not to fall for you?” 

He only offers you a curious hum before kissing you again and rolling you over to lie on top of you, “Do you want me to stop?” 

“Not at all.” 

And he doesn’t. He doesn’t stop all night long. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if you're interested, i have a nafla blog on [Tumblr](https://dimeforhispocket.tumblr.com/)


End file.
